GREED
by Robsmyyummy Cabanaboy
Summary: She thrives on the spotlight; he depends on the darkness. Theirs is a tale of an implausible friendship crashing, burning and rising again. Contribution to the seven deadly sins SALIGIA compilation from The Sinners posted on Fat Tuesday 2014. Originally a one-shot; now a multi-chapter story.
1. Chapter 1

**Welcome back, readers! Or just welcome to those of you discovering GREED for the first time; so glad you're here! The original one-shot of GREED was over fifteen thousand words, so for the sake of chapter length continuity for the entire story, I've split that chapter into six smaller chapters of fairly comparable size. Also, it was smarter to replace the o/s with this first chapter (rather than reposting it as a new story) because so many people put the story on alert, and I didn't want them to miss out on the extension. I'll post two chapters a day from now through Tuesday, and then the new chapter of the _extended_ story will go live on Wednesday. I didn't want to overwhelm any new readers with too many chapters thrown at them immediately, so I figured this was the smartest approach. My hope is to stick with posting a new chapter every Sunday and Wednesday. So, take your time over the next three days and refresh your memory of where our characters journeyed in the one-shot, get into that GREEDy groove, and enjoy!**

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**Greed****: **_noun_ \grēd\ (_Latin - Avaritia_)

1 : a selfish desire to have more of something

* * *

**$GREED$**

"Leaving so soon?" Emmett sauntered out of the bathroom suite, wrapped in the hotel's finest luxury Turkish cotton. Condom wrappers tossed haphazardly on the floor and the scent of sex that lingered in the air still hinted at their latest round of fucking.

"Time's up, loverboy."

He watched her move with purpose around the room as she gathered her undergarments and briefcase. After sipping the last of her champagne, she took her coat from the rack.

"Same time next week?"

She smiled and tied the belt. "On the dot."

"I'll walk you out." He followed behind her, but as she reached for the door knob, he grabbed her wrist, spinning her around.

His semi-hard cock jabbed at her.

"Feel that?" His kiss was hard, his tongue teasing relentlessly. "Sure you need to go?"

"Got another grand?" Emmett was a great fuck, but this was about time, and time was money, and money was power.

And power . . . well, that was everything.

He pulled back, his eyebrow raised incredulously. "Come on." His mouth demanded hers again. "Chump change."

With her hand on his chest, she pushed him backwards a step to undo her belt, exposing her lace bra and panties. "All yours."

**.**

**.**

**.**

Emmett always made sure to wash the smell of pussy from his body before walking through the door. Rosalie might be flighty, but she wasn't an idiot. He doubted she'd ever be able to follow through on her threats to leave if she caught him screwing around— she loved the luxury of their life way too much— but he couldn't afford to call her bluff. His father was all about appearances, and there was no way Emmett would ever inherit the company if Carlisle knew he was having an affair.

Could he even call it an affair?

There were plenty of women who threw themselves at Emmett's feet, but he didn't pay them any attention and he certainly didn't pay them any cash. Only one lady had the power to make him stray and pay for it in the process.

_Isabella_.

He'd first met her at a political fundraising dinner for Senator Whitlock last summer. She was on the arm of some moronic executive from a competing oil company, but it didn't matter to Emmett. She was well-spoken, highly intelligent and her beauty was captivating. She was irresistible.

Three years of marriage to Rosalie Hale had him bored to death and sexually frustrated . . . he was downright deprived. Of course, as the only daughter of a high-energy, well-known TV evangelist, Rosalie wasn't about to let her man stick his dick any old place, husband or not. Emmett wished he'd received that memo prior to proposing. She had preposterous standards and insisted there were things in the bedroom that were completely unnecessary and beneath her.

Which is exactly why Emmett ended up beneath Isabella.

The night he met her, he flashed his dimples amidst mutual flirtatious looks, which ensured she'd have his number before he left with his plastic Stepford wife.

Emmett took her card as well, and couldn't even wait twenty-four hours before he called her. The fact that she turned out to be an escort didn't faze him in the least. The money was of little consequence; Emmett suddenly felt alive.

Isabella had him tied up and was riding his face an hour after they met for that first dinner. To say he lived for his standing weekly rendezvous on Thursdays was in no way an exaggeration.

And after those evenings, she was always at least a thousand dollars richer. It paid to be desirable. Paid very well, indeed.

**$GREED$**

Isabella flipped through her date book while her driver negotiated rush hour traffic on the LBJ.

"Straight to The Continental, Miss Swan?"

"No, I need to grab a few things at my place first. My appointment at The Continental isn't until noon."

"Yes, ma'am."

Isabella raised the privacy window in the car and dialed back the call she'd missed during her last go-round with Emmett.

"_Two unreturned phone calls . . . I was beginning to think you ran off with a younger man."_

She smiled at the irony. But no, nobody would ever take her eyes off this particular prize.

"I could never leave you, my love."

"_I'm glad to hear that." _His throaty chuckle still managed to send a rush of heat between her legs, despite their significant age difference._ "How about you go ahead and clear your schedule for Valentine's weekend next month."_

Isabella swallowed tightly, knowing that was a big money weekend for broken-hearted souls in need of company. She hated the thought of losing out on the cash. Last year on Valentine's Day weekend she spent a day and a half with a one-time client in town on business. He got his lonely rocks off and she got fifteen thousand dollars.

She quickly scanned her day planner. Actually . . . February fourteenth was Edward's weekend, but he wouldn't care. She'd make it up to him.

"Aww, you have something special planned, Sugar?"

Her sweetened tone only made him fall harder. _"Very special. We'll be going someplace warm and secluded. Very little clothing necessary, but you know you have your card and can go ahead and buy whatever you'd like to show off for me."_

Isabella's smile brightened when she heard she'd be able to use the black AMEX card again soon. Having a blank check— so to speak— at her fingertips was always nice, but she didn't want to be an outright thief. When he gave her the green light, she indulged and enjoyed every moment of doing so.

"I'll pick out a few little numbers that will dazzle you."

"_So that's a yes?"_

She gave herself only a few seconds to hem and haw. It would be worth it in the end. There was a game plan here, and she had to stick to it.

"Yes, of course I'll join you. I can't wait to see what you have planned. You always spoil me, baby."

"_Perfect. Now, when can I see you again? You've been busy with your business trips and seminars."_

"I'm just back from a symposium in New York, actually." The lie rolled off her tongue so easily. "How about I cook for you on Sunday?"

"_Shall I send a car for you?"_

"No, I'll have Felix drive me. Be there by three, okay?"

"_Sounds perfect. See you then."_

Isabella punctuated the call with her signature kiss and smiled. Valentine's weekend with her sugar daddy. Though she could have turned him down very easily, knowing there was money to be made on such a holiday for lonely hearts, she needed to put in her time if she hoped to get her hands on Cullen Oil someday.

The privacy window lowered a crack before she heard her driver's voice. "It's a parking lot, Miss Swan. We might be here a while. Radio says there's an accident up ahead about a mile or so."

"Thanks, Felix. But if we're here for too long, you're going to have to do your best Moses impression and part those cars. I can't be late for The Continental."

"Yes, ma'am." He raised the window as Isabella leaned her head back and closed her eyes. Exhaustion was finally catching up with her after the week she had. Her schedule kept her extraordinarily busy, and in turn, extraordinarily wealthy. There's no rest for the weary though, and there sure as hell isn't any money for the weary, either.

As long as she played her cards right, Easy Street would be right around the corner. Being married to Carlisle Cullen would be the ultimate game-changer. To be on the arm of the man who owned a hundred billion dollar oil company was nothing to sneeze at. With all that money came power and prestige — Isabella salivated at the thought. People who had money like that made others stop and listen, had them working for them day and night, and were constantly at their beck and call. The amount of influence that walked hand in hand with that kind of money was incomparable and Isabella's ultimate goal. The power she and Jasper could wield together would be unparalleled. Not that she didn't keep a good chunk of money for herself; the finer things in life came with this territory. Of course, the stash of flash drives, hidden videos and recorded conversations were always in her private arsenal in case her house of cards came tumbling down.

At the end of the day, it would always be about protecting your own neck.

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**A/N: Many thanks to my GREEDy team for their countless hours of help and encouragement: My sinful sisters from other misters, LayAtHomeMom and Hoodfabulous; and, of course, my awesome Cabana Girls who've been with me since I published chapter one of Last Call: Born OnHalloween, Cejsmom and LaMomo, the most fantastic beta a Yummy could ask for. LOVE my team!**

**Thanks for reading! xo, Jen**


	2. Chapter 2

**This is chapter TWO for those of you who had the story on alert and came right here with the link. You can hop back to chapter one if you want a full refresher from the beginning.**

**Welcome back, readers! Or just welcome to those of you discovering GREED for the first time. The original one-shot was over fifteen thousand words, so for the sake of chapter length continuity throughout the entire story, I've split that chapter into six smaller chapters of fairly comparable size. Also, it was smarter to replace the o/s with the first trimmed chapter (rather than reposting it as a new story) because so many people put the story on alert, and I didn't want them to miss out on the extension. I'll post two a day from now through Tuesday, and then the new chapter of the _extended_ story (chapter 7) will go live on Wednesday. I didn't want to overload new readers with too many chapters at once and figured this was the smartest way. My hope is to stick with posting a new chapter every Sunday and Wednesday. So, take your time over the next three days, and refresh your memory of where our characters journeyed, get into that GREEDy groove, and enjoy!**

**Chapters 2, 3 and the first part of 4 are a flashback...**

* * *

**$GREED$**

Isabella had carved out quite a name for herself— discreetly, of course— in the few years since she graduated college. Yes, she had her degree in international business— even had the business cards to prove it. But to make it to the top, or at least be somebody who counted in that field, was entirely too long and arduous a journey. She wanted that money, that privilege . . . the clout that came with that position of authority, and she didn't want to wait to get it.

It was all about being the puppet master . . . the need for power. Isabella was always in complete control and planned every step meticulously. Even as a young girl, she knew what she wanted, knew how to get it, and more often than not, took it without apology.

Her childhood in Los Angeles was not a memorable one. She was frequently reminded that she was the inconvenient result of some one-night stand after an Aerosmith/Guns N' Roses concert back in '88. Isabella's father was never in her life. As for her mother, she was barely there, either. Her mom tried her best, but Renee was more of a train wreck than anything else. They fought like cats and dogs while her mom tried to force Bella to be young and carefree, and all Bella wanted was the routine and order Renee could never provide.

Once Isabella was accepted into college, she hugged her mother goodbye and left without turning back. Isabella assumed that Renee knew it was safer for the two of them to part ways with minimal contact, and she was thankful for her mother's insight in that regard. Isabella sent the woman a present on Christmas and her birthday, usually a gift card to a local grocery store, because Renee was just mindless enough to forget to shop for food at times. Singing in dive bars, painting and trying to sell her so-called "art" on Venice Beach, braiding hair and drawing henna tattoos . . . her mother was a jackass of all trades. Last she heard, some deadbeat guy named Phil had latched onto her and was mooching off her spectacularly sparse resources. They were a match made in mediocrity heaven.

At the University of Texas, Isabella excelled as a major in international business. Her GPA never wavered from a 4.0, but it wasn't all because of her intelligence. Oh, she was incredibly smart. But one day late in her junior year, she learned that her body— coupled with her knack for carrying on an educated conversation— was going to be her ultimate weapon.

Isabella always sat in the front row to ensure her professors knew she was serious and eager to learn, unlike some of the clowns and half-drunk frat guys who occasionally stumbled their way into the early morning lectures and labs. These amateurs made eyes at her, but she simply ignored them, knowing full well they weren't worth her time. She was usually able to get away from them before they got close enough to speak to her, but one morning, a putrid-smelling kid from Sigma Tau Delta sidled up to her. The Greek letters STD couldn't have been a coincidence.

"You know . . . I came here for you today."

Isabella didn't bother to look up; she just rolled her eyes and continued to pack her backpack.

"I usually ditch, but I've seen you here a couple times and knew I needed to get with you. Always so sexy with your glasses on, taking notes." He got closer to her ear. "That pen tapping at the edge of your lips when you listen to the lectures. I'd love to see what you'd look like with something else between your lips . . . both sets."

Isabella's mouth fell open while shocked humor played at her eyes. She could have responded in any number of ways, but decided to go for the obvious. "Do you realize you smell like a cesspool?"

Frat boy furrowed his brows. "A what?"

"A cesspool," she repeated loudly. "A large pit of raw sewage. Though some girls might consider you mildly attractive, sadly for you, I'm not one of them. My advice to you regarding future propositioning techniques would be that you shower first, to get rid of the combined smell of Drakkar, beer, vomit and splooge from your body before you try to talk to a girl. You might have better luck, Casanova."

He stood there stunned, as Isabella spun on her heels and marched out of the lecture hall past a chuckling professor.

"Miss Swan?" Isabella stopped short and looked over her shoulder. "May I see you in my office, please?"

Oh fuck. She berated herself as she followed behind Professor Lee, worried she was about to be in trouble for what just went on with sewage boy. The fact that she had an enormous crush on this teacher didn't make things any easier. He was young, probably in his early thirties. He always wore a tie, but never a jacket. His sleeves were usually rolled to his elbows, and the glasses he wore made him look positively succulent.

Isabella got off more times than she could count to the image of this man writhing underneath her.

He placed his briefcase on his desk and loosened his tie while she immediately launched into an apology.

"I'm sorry for being so rude out there, Professor Lee. I'm not at all interested in dating, and that guy just—"

He held his hand up. "I'm not about to scold you for what I just witnessed out there. Didn't you see me laughing? That idiot deserved it right between the eyes."

"Oh! Well, okay." Shifting on her feet, she smiled in relief and readjusted her backpack on her shoulder. "So, is there something else you needed?"

"Well, two things, actually. The first is that I was hoping you might be interested in being a teaching assistant for me. Interims just went out and you're earning perfect marks. I have a couple of one hundred level courses that I could use your help in. They'd be paid positions through work-study, if you'd like."

Give up her job as a file clerk in the alumni house to work next to this man several times a week instead? There was no contest.

"I'd love to."

"It would be a full year position. I'd need you through the summer sessions. Will that work for your schedule?"

"Oh, definitely," she answered eagerly as they both grinned. "I mean, I have no summer plans at this point. I could stay on campus."

"Excellent. The second thing I needed to talk to you about is a little more of a confidential matter, requiring complete discretion, but I think you'd be up for it."

"Okay?" She was unsure at this point, but willing to listen to anything this gorgeous man would speak about.

"I've learned that a student in our program will need some help this summer, but he won't be attending any classes on campus."

"He's a distance education student?"

"Not exactly, he lives here in Austin. He's considered a full-time student on campus but he's been watching recordings of my lectures, of all the lectures in the program. They'll need to be hand-delivered to him. Along with any of the required reading, handouts, tests, etcetera. The student who's currently helping him has plans to transfer at the end of the semester."

Isabella's gaze searched the room, looking for answers in her head as to why a student who lives in Austin won't come to campus for classes. She decided to leave it alone . . . for now.

"We can talk more about it as the summer session approaches. But as for the TA position, you can start whenever you'd like."

**.**

**.**

**.**

It didn't take long before she found herself working long hours in Professor Lee's—_Garrett's_— office. Between grading papers and helping him with research for his second doctoral dissertation, she felt completely comfortable going to his home on the weekends. Their chemistry was undeniable. She would've fallen into bed with him immediately if he asked her, but she knew she had to be careful. This was her education. If things went sour, he could report her instantly. But she wanted him so badly she could taste it.

And that's when it hit her like a lightning bolt. He had just as much to lose, maybe more. Not that she intended to hurt him . . . but if they started something, it would be just as risky on his part as it would be on hers. Knowing she had that kind of power over the situation gave her a rush of adrenalin and she launched herself at him.

It took no convincing for Garrett as she stripped him down and blew his mind while she blew his cock. The man saw stars. They spent the night kissing and licking and fucking and sucking until the sun peeked through his cheesy Venetian blinds.

"I hope this won't change anything," Bella hinted as she dressed. "I still want to work for you and help out with that student this summer."

Garrett leaned down to kiss her, grasping her chin gently. "I wouldn't have it any other way."

**.**

**.**

**.**

About a month later, Isabella found herself in the 2nd Street District, being buzzed up to the 52nd floor of The Austonian. The level of luxury surrounding her had Isabella's heart racing. She was headed to one of the penthouses, no less. Wonder what this guy's deal was? Clearly he had bank. Maybe if she flirted enough, she could get a rich boyfriend out of the deal. She really didn't do boyfriends, though. She liked sex, of course, who the hell didn't? But getting tied down into one relationship was only going to hinder her pursuit to have it all. When you settled with one, your options vanished.

No . . . single but enjoying life was the only way to be. Maybe he'd turn out to be a new fuck buddy who was generous with his wallet? That might work. Garrett didn't share his money with her, but he sure as hell fucked like a Greek God, and she passed his class with flying colors. It was a win-win in her book.

She pursed her lips, smiling to herself. You're so bad, Isabella. What? You're hoping to be a kept woman? More like aspiring to be a hooker. No, never a hooker. Maybe a high end call girl. Yep, that'll be the day. She rolled her eyes at her asinine inner musings and rang the doorbell once the elevator opened.

**"Yes?"**

"Uhh, yeah. I just buzzed you from downstairs? I'm Isabella Swan." There was nothing but silence from the other end of the intercom. "I brought over your books and syllabi for your classes this semester."

At least thirty seconds passed with no response. Is this a joke? Suddenly, a series of locks sounded like they disengaged and the door opened to . . . nobody.

What. The. Hell?

The only light that she could see was coming in from the floor to ceiling windows out in the living room, but she was in a darkened entryway.

"Just put everything on the table in the foyer."

Isabella looked behind her and saw a sleeve poking out from behind the large, open door. Turning back toward the table, she unpacked her backpack, laying out the three textbooks, a flash drive and two file folders of paperwork labeled EAM.

"Thank you," said the disembodied voice, its owner still hidden from Isabella's curious eyes. "That envelope is for you."

She glanced behind the centerpiece to see her name elegantly written in calligraphy.

"And what's this?"

"Your fee."

Her face scrunched in confusion. "I'm not supposed to be paid for this. I was just bringing it by because it's part of my job as Garr— err, Professor Lee's teaching assistant."

"It's not a problem. I'd be paying a messenger if it wasn't you doing the transporting. Take it."

Isabella was never one to look a gift horse in the mouth. Money was money and she could use every penny. Her apartment for the summer session was costing her an arm and a leg.

"So . . . did you need me to go over anything with you?" she offered, feeling awkward that she was carrying on a conversation with a large steel door.

"No, I'm quite capable. I'll see you in a few days with whatever else is assigned throughout the week."

Isabella nodded to the voice and hoisted her bag up onto her shoulder again.

"Okay, well . . . I'll see ya," she mumbled with an eye roll, walking out. The door slammed behind her and the locks re-engaged. "Or hear ya." She snorted to herself. "Fuckin' wacko."

* * *

**A/N: Many thanks to my GREEDy team for their countless hours of help and encouragement: My sinful sisters from other misters, LayAtHomeMom and Hoodfabulous and, of course, my awesome Cabana Girls who've been with me since I published chapter one of Last Call, Born OnHalloween, Cejsmom and LaMomo, the most fantastic beta a Yummy could ask for. LOVE my team!**

**Thanks for reading! xo, Jen**


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapters 2, 3 and the first part of 4 are a flashback...**

* * *

**$GREED$**

Over the next few weeks, Isabella's mystery project— also known as the sleeve and voice from behind the door— eventually got a little more comfortable with her. In was on their fifth encounter that he finally permitted her to see his face and officially introduced himself.

Though very attractive behind his dark half frames, with a head of brown, unruly hair and an impressive stature, Edward Masen was still very much an enigma to her. He was always in the shadows, never allowing Isabella to get close enough to examine him fully to see whether or not he was worth the effort.

She made the short trip to his home twice a week, once on Thursdays to drop off the flash drive with the recorded classes as well as any handouts, and once on Sunday evenings to pick up papers and take-home tests he needed to return to his professors.

Each time she went, there was a crisp, one hundred dollar bill waiting for her in an envelope. For merely walking the two blocks from campus to Edward's apartment and back, Isabella earned two hundred dollars a week.

It was too simple. So simple that she wanted more. It made her wonder what else she could do to earn quick and easy money like that.

**.**

**.**

**.**

By the first week of August, both summer sessions were completed. Isabella was facing three weeks of well-deserved vacation before her senior year began. She had to make one final run to Edward's home to drop off a letter from the Dean of the department.

"Hello." He nodded with a smile as she stepped inside the door.

"Hey. Just wanted to drop off this letter from Dean Fuller." Their hands ghosted each other's during the exchange. He didn't recoil as she thought he would.

"Thank you. I appreciate it. Uhh, hang on a second." He left the foyer for only a moment and came back pulling another hundred dollar bill from his wallet. "I would've had it in an envelope had I known you were coming."

Isabella put her hand up to halt him. "Oh, really. It's not necessary . . . this one's on me."

"You're sure?"

"Definitely," she confirmed, taking a step back. "So, Dr. Fuller said if you want me to continue to do so, I can still be your messenger once the new school year starts, but it's ultimately up to you."

"Okay." He offered her nothing else; she suddenly felt awkward.

"Well, enjoy your break." She turned toward the door with a little less spring in her step. She could only speculate as to why.

"Wait, Isabella . . . before you go." She glanced over her shoulder and found him with his eyes downcast for a moment. "Would you, uhh . . . would you want to stay for dinner . . . I mean, if you don't already have plans? Maybe to celebrate the end of classes?"

She was stunned at the sudden invitation. In a bizarre turn, her mystery project was giving her a sign of life. Isabella never grew attached to anything, she just wasn't that type of emotional person, but ever since she started interacting with Edward in his darkened entryway, she'd felt an odd pull to discover more about him.

"I don't have any plans."

He shrugged, extremely unsure of the route he was taking. "It's just that— well, aside from Felix who runs my errands— I don't speak to anyone and I just figured . . ."

A coy grin danced across Isabella's face. "You don't have to say anything else." She dropped her book bag from her shoulder and took charge. "Do you like barbeque?"

**.**

**.**

**.**

"I don't really have anyone I'm close to either," Isabella confessed, wiping the excess sauce from her fingers.

"I know."

"You _know_?" She was taken aback, more confused than anything.

He quickly corrected himself. "I mean, I know how hard you work in your classes and for Professor Lee. And then always running here for me . . . you must not have many distractions outside of school . . . like me." Edward threw the rib he'd been picking at on the plate between them. They sat on the floor in his living room with the fading light of day above the Austin skyline still attempting to illuminate his apartment.

Isabella nodded. "Yeah, I've never done well with people getting and staying close with me . . . that's why I keep myself so busy. I need to make sure I'm always in the driver's seat. Having friends usually means compromising and giving up a little control." Isabella snorted. "Needless to say, I'm not very good at that."

He sighed deeply. "Thank you for not giving up on this job," he whispered before continuing. "I know I didn't make it easy for you in the beginning."

"You don't have to explain." She shook her head. "I'm just glad we bridged a little gap." Isabella hesitated before her boldness took over, demanding the answers she'd ruminated on for the last ten weeks. "So . . . you never go out. I've never seen anyone else visiting you with the exception of Felix who I've only ever seen in the lobby downstairs. You keep yourself shrouded in darkness. Are— are you a hermit or something?"

His crooked half-grin appeared; it was endearing. "Technically agoraphobic. I don't do well in crowded places. I like the silence and solitude, the lack of lighting— need it, actually. It comforts me."

"Huh. Were you always like this?"

He sniffed and took a sip of his sweet tea. "My drugged-out father abandoned me in a shopping mall in Virginia when I was three. It was the day after Thanksgiving, so the crowds were hefty all day long. I was playing in a toy store for a while, nobody paid attention enough to see that I was on my own. I ended up following this family into a department store and was playing hide and seek with their little boy."

Isabella cracked a smile, but it was a sad one, knowing this story wasn't going to have a happy ending.

"I hid inside one of those circular clothing racks, you know? Well anyway, after a few rounds, my new friend just never came looking for me again." Edward shrugged. "Eventually some lady spotted me and realized I was on my own. I don't remember much else, just that I was surrounded by police officers for several days. Ended up in the custody of the state." Edward's head whipped toward the windows when a flash of lightning cut across the sky. "I didn't talk much after that," he confessed, reaching for another rib. "And nobody wanted to adopt a mute orphan."

"So how did you end up with so much money?"

Edward started chuckling at Isabella's bluntness. He wasn't at all offended . . . he wanted to tell her his story. Felix knew the unabridged version, but nobody else did, least of all a female. Somehow, Edward knew he wanted her to be the first.

"The less-than-stellar doctors who handled my case just rubber stamped some papers saying I was mentally disabled because I wasn't talking. So, I was placed in a group home rather than foster care. I don't remember how it all transpired, but some neighbor of my grandparents came to visit a relative in the same group home I was in." He shrugged, popping a fry in his mouth. "Small world, I guess. Supposedly, I looked just like my dad, and this lady flipped out when she saw me there."

"Was your dad still around to take care of you?"

"Nahh. He'd been in and out of rehabs since before I was dropped on his doorstep by my coked-up mother. My grandparents had no idea where he was because they'd disowned him years earlier. Once their neighbor started telling tales of this little orphan who looked identical to their son, who was also stuck in a group home, they had an attack of conscience.

Isabella listened with rapt attention. Renee seemed like Mother of the Year in comparison to the shit Edward dealt with as a young boy.

He sighed, chugging the last of his tea. "Turns out they weren't very nice people . . . or at least not emotionally equipped to deal with my issues. So between me not talking and them with no interest in trying to get to the root of my problems, it was easier to just send me to boarding school and set me up with a hefty savings account to draw from."

"That kinda rots." Isabella pushed her plate away, her appetite gone. "Do you ever hear from them?"

Edward shook his head. "They both died when I was a teenager."

"Jesus."

"Ehh, it's really no loss on my part. I've managed."

It was impossible to conceive that a life in solitude and darkness was considered "managing." A silence descended for a couple of minutes and it made Isabella uncomfortable, like whatever bonding they might have done tonight had come to an end.

"And how did you meet Felix?" She tried to resuscitate the conversation.

Edward stood and started collecting the plates. "I was bullied ruthlessly at school because I kept to myself as much as possible. Felix had enough one day and intervened," Edward explained, mirth creeping into his tone. "He made it a point to wait for me after classes and walked me back to my room. I didn't thank him . . . didn't even say a word to him for over two months, but he didn't seem to care."

"Wow."

"He let me be me," he continued with a shrug. "And that's what I needed. Just has a good heart, I guess."

"Sounds like it. I'm glad you have him."

"Me too." Though quiet for several beats, Edward piped up again. "Thanks for caring enough to want to know me. I usually just creep people out."

Isabella's smile matched Edward's. "Everybody needs a friend, right?" She thought about the words she'd just spoken. Aside from Garrett, who only fucked her for a good time and her impeccable research skills, Isabella had nobody in her life she could lean on. A few acquaintances here and there, but nobody of significance.

She and Edward exchanged quick glances as they finished clearing their dinner from his coffee table. If a man who knew and trusted almost nothing but the shadows had opened up to her, maybe she could learn a bit of that same kind of trust.

Isabella didn't understand his life. For her, life was about being out and about, the drive to seek to be the center of attention in order to gain the wealth and power she'd hoped to achieve . . . but maybe she could find it in herself to be a friend to this man.

Perhaps.

* * *

**A/N: Many thanks to my GREEDy team for their countless hours of help and encouragement: My sinful sisters from other misters, LayAtHomeMom and Hoodfabulous and, of course, my awesome Cabana Girls who've been with me since I published chapter one of Last Call, Born OnHalloween, Cejsmom and LaMomo, the most fantastic beta a Yummy could ask for. LOVE my team!**

**Thanks for reading! xo, Jen**


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapters 2, 3 and the first part of 4 (where you see the second $GREED$ marker) are all part of a flashback. At the second $GREED$ marker, we start with present day and continue that way for the rest of the story. **

* * *

**$GREED$**

Isabella continued to see Edward twice a week to bring his school work by. She wouldn't stay long, but ever since their dinner that night in August, there was an unspoken camaraderie that gave each of them some contentment. They'd commiserate on the workload, compare answers on take-home tests. Their relationship, as it stood, just . . . worked.

And though she found some level of comfort in that darkened doorway, her need for acquiring the most knowledge, the most attention, the most wealth . . . the most power never waned. It seemed to be a thirst she couldn't ever completely quench.

Later that fall semester, Isabella found herself knocking on her Finance professor's office door. Sickened when she received a seventy-four percent on her midterm, she needed to figure out how to do some extra credit, or at least get some extra help and quickly.

"Come in."

Isabella pushed open Dr. Hunter's door to find him typing away at his laptop.

"Isabella?" He invited her to have a seat. "What can I do for you?"

"I'm really concerned about my grade on the midterm, Dr. Hunter. I wanted to meet with you to find out if there's anything I can do to improve. I have to get an 'A' to keep my GPA up. I'll do anything."

With no additional projects aside from the cumulative final—which was only worth ten percent more than the midterm— she'd need a perfect score to even hope for a solid 'B' in the class.

"I give no opportunities for extra credit. Your only chance to boost your grade would be to excel on the final. Perhaps you should find a study partner or tutor."

Isabella knew without question that Edward would work with her, helping her where she struggled. But a wicked idea she'd been toying with suddenly became a desire she wanted to explore. Perhaps she could offer Dr. Hunter a bonus of sorts. She saw how he watched her.

"Is there anything else I can do?" There was no denying the seductive tone in her voice. Offering her body in exchange for a better grade seemed to be the next logical step in Isabella's warped mind. Without hesitation, she went with her gut instinct. She stood, walking around his large mahogany desk, and stopped in front of the man who held her academic fate at this moment in time.

He said nothing, just continued to stare up at her as she started to unbutton her blouse.

"Are you single, Dr. Hunter?" Her fingers slid delicately as each flicked open another button. "I'm not blind. I see you staring at me during class. Do you think of me when you go home at night?"

The words flowed from Isabella's mouth so easily. It would baffle anyone else that she was throwing herself at her teacher's feet, but she felt no remorse.

She only felt the rush . . . the high . . . the power.

"I could have you expelled from the International Business program for this display."

She slipped her blouse from her shoulders and unzipped the side of her linen skirt, thanking her lucky stars that she wore a matching bra and panty set today. It certainly didn't hurt that they were lacy and the bra practically see-through.

"You could . . . but you won't." Her skirt slid down her hourglass hips as she stepped forward, still wearing cream sling-backs on her perfectly manicured feet.

"What do you think is going to happen here?"

His terse question stiffened her spine, but she wouldn't be deterred. This was going to work. It _had_ to work.

"I want you to know that you're in charge," she purred, kneeling down between his legs. The bulge in his crotch was becoming more well-defined with each passing second. "You can use my body however you'd like." She reached for his buckle as his eyebrow rose to a point. "I just need to know that you'll take care of me . . ." Her index finger traced the outline of his hardened cock. ". . . while I take care of you."

"I won't throw out your grade."

"I don't expect you to." Their gazes were locked on each other. His buckle made a clanking sound under her manipulation as she pulled his zipper down. "I just expect that perhaps you'll consider this extra effort on my part— ongoing, if you'd like— when you take into account my grades in December."

She reached into his pants and unleashed his thick erection. The swollen, sensitive tip leaked at the promise of Isabella's lust-filled words. Her eyes hooded, she gave one final glance to her professor whose gaze was still trained on her face. After a few tugs, she lowered her mouth and swept her tongue up the side of his shaft, swirling at the head.

Dr. Hunter's head fell back on his chair, and he readjusted his hips to get more comfortable. Though he attempted to feign shock for those first few moments when she arrived in his office, clearly he had no moral issues with Isabella's proposal. While he enjoyed the sensations, she slurped, sucked and hummed her way to a guaranteed grade far above what she'd just earned on her midterm. The grunts and moans he made while she pleasured him gave her the high she was seeking. She wanted more of it. Not only was he turning her on sexually— the wetness between her thighs making itself known— but she owned him in that moment. He was at her mercy and she felt it thrum through her body. The control that she held in her hands made her soar. It was everything she'd always craved.

Pure power.

This was only the beginning.

**.**

**.**

**.**

"We should go into business together."

Isabella paused mid-chew, so as to not choke on her lo mein. "Edward, you're sweet, but you don't want to go into the business I'm considering."

"Why not?" He emptied a third packet of duck sauce into a bowl for his egg roll. "I know you struggled in Macro and Micro, but I can take care of the numbers part."

"Don't forget Finance," she added with an internal smirk.

"Yeah, but you came back and killed it in the end."

_Poor Edward_, she thought, _if he only knew what she did to get that 'A' in Finance last semester. Not to mention her threesomes with the Macro and Micro professors._

She shook her head. "You're about to start a career as an international economist, Edward. You're a damn genius."

"But I'll need someone to go out and represent me at times. That could be your role. Take the business trips, shake the hands . . . you know."

Isabella sighed, feeling the need to be deadly honest with Edward. "I appreciate your confidence in me, but I've taken a job on Senator Whitlock's staff. I need the money as soon as possible. I can't chance starting out as an entrepreneur like you."

Edward looked completely crestfallen. It was the first outward expression of emotions she'd seen since she met him a year ago.

"We'd be great together." His words were all he had to give. If she couldn't see that, his proposition was just a sinking ship.

"You'll do fine on your own. Everything is handled on computers nowadays. You would never need to step out of your apartment. Maybe a phone call from time to time, but that's it."

He nodded with a smile nowhere near genuine. At this point, he just needed to be alone again.

Isabella, on the other hand, did her best to scramble and pull the right words from thin air. Though their working relationship had evolved over the year into a true friendship, Edward just didn't have the power and clout that she needed to harness in order to make it to the top of the game.

Their relationship was just safer if it remained friendly.

**$GREED$**

Felix opened the door and helped Isabella out of the town car. "What time will you be ready to leave, Miss Swan?"

Isabella pulled her sunglasses down her nose. "Felix, you've been driving me around for the last year and a half. We've known each other for almost three years through Edward. Don't you think it's time you started calling me Isabella?"

A reticent grin appeared. "Not while we're on the job, ma'am."

"But you don't even call me by my name when you're off the job," she countered, grabbing her Diet Coke from the cup holder.

"That's because I don't ever see you after hours."

Isabella wrapped her lips around her straw, making a show of her sip. "We could always remedy that, you know," she purred with a wink.

He chuckled and closed the door as she stepped away. "Edward would plot my murder."

"Oh stop," she scoffed with a wave. "He's never laid a hand on me. There's no claim there." She walked backwards in her four-inch stilettos. "I'd give you the friends and family discount." Her light-hearted tone didn't freak Felix out, but he knew there were limits, no matter how enticing Miss Swan made the offer.

He shook his head with a smile. "Call me when you need me."

She waggled her eyebrows, turning, and headed toward the elevators to meet her next client.

**.**

**.**

**.**

Isabella poured a glass of wine to enjoy while she waited for Peter to contact her. Thankfully, she'd left a bottle in the fridge when she was last here. Walking over to the sliding door to look out on the horizon, she spied the ominous cloud cover heading toward Dallas. The meteorologists were all squawking about the supposed ice storm and frigid temperatures on their way for the next couple of weeks. She'd believe it when she saw it. Yes, the temperature would dip from time to time, but it had been years since Dallas had seen any snow or ice during its normally mild winters.

If anything was going to happen, she hoped it wouldn't ruin Carlisle's Valentine weekend plans. It was clearly important to him, and in turn, it needed to be important to her. The end result . . . the bottom line was all that ever mattered. And Carlisle was the bottom line.

A sharp rap sounded at the door, forcing her mind to calibrate and bring on her game face. She'd never regret the hand she dealt herself, but she needed to make it work until the windfall arrived. As she walked toward the door, Isabella took several quick sips so as to not waste the Chardonnay.

A look through the peephole showed Peter waiting for her, hands clasped in front of him . . . looking ever the secret service agent. Isabella rolled her eyes at the display. If he ever made it as far as the White House, she'd faint dead away. For now he was simply a glorified bodyguard because he was a close friend of the Senator.

"Peter," she greeted him with a sardonic grin. "Nice to see you again."

He nodded curtly. "Miss Swan." Stepping inside, he remained at the door, glancing at his watch while she finished her wine and placed the glass in the sink. "Will you be much longer?"

"Oh, Peter . . . get over yourself. I've been here for twenty-five minutes waiting on Jasper. If he's annoyed that I'm delayed by ninety seconds because I finished my wine, he'll have to suck it up."

"He has other places he needs to be, not the least of which is back home in Houston with his wife and child."

Isabella threaded her arms through her trench coat, her head cocked. "Do you have something you need to say to me?"

"No."

She started laughing, heading for the door. "You're a lousy liar, Peter. I don't think you like me very much." He gave no response, just waited until she walked past him and pulled the door closed.

"My opinion of you has nothing to do with my job . . . and right now I'm doing my job."

"Even if you don't like it." Isabella's snarky comment was enough to push his buttons.

"You're a whore. And you're fucking a happily married man," he spat. "I don't know how you sleep at night."

She quirked her brow as they stopped at the elevators. While that all may be true, he'd need to try a little harder if he really wanted to hurt her. "Anything else?"

He rolled his neck after adjusting his tie. "No."

"Let me ask you a question." They straightened and stepped to the side when the elevator doors opened and a family with a couple of children filed out. As the doors closed again, she leaned on the rails while they traveled to the top floor. "Are you happily married?"

"Yes."

Her eyes narrowed going in for the kill. "And were you happily married last fall at the benefit?"

His nostrils flared when he realized where she was heading.

"I think we can both agree that you've been bitter ever since I turned you down."

He swallowed tightly, looking down at the woman who'd stomped all over his ego several months earlier.

"I think we remember two different versions of the story. Let's just leave it at that, shall we?"

She threw her head back and cackled as they reached the penthouse floor. "What version do you remember, Peter? Is it the one where you slipped your hand between my thighs and fingered me as we sat at the dinner table? When you knew I was someone else's date that night, no less?"

He stared straight ahead with no reaction.

"I was talking to your wife, looking directly into your darling Charlotte's eyes while you were knuckle-deep in my pussy. How did you sleep that night?" Isabella approached the door of the penthouse. "Because I didn't cause a scene, you expected that I'd let you fuck me for free?" She clicked her tongue a few times. "Nobody gets it for free, baby. Not even the dear, happily married Senator."

"You certainly didn't complain," he scoffed. "You were fucking soaked." Peter banged on the door waiting for Jacob to answer.

Isabella pulled on Peter's arm and tipped her head up to whisper in his ear. "I was soaked because Jasper had just eaten me out in the lounge, honey. It had absolutely nothing to do with you." She puckered her lips and kissed his jaw just as he ripped his arm away.

"Fucking cunt."

"Is there a problem?" Jacob, Jasper's chief of staff interrupted, having heard the last words Peter sneered.

"Not at all!" she chirped, stepping forward. "See ya, Pete!"

.

.

.

"Fuck me, YES!"

Jasper grunted while he drilled into Isabella from behind, her pulsing walls milking him to the point where he couldn't hold out another second. He pulled out with a roar and stroked his cock furiously as ribbons of his release splattered across her back.

He fell next to her on the bed and pulled her sweaty, spent body on top of his. When they came face to face, he kissed her hard.

"You taste like sex," she moaned, as their tongues danced in and out of each other's mouth.

The senator chuckled. "You fucking love it."

She hummed and continued to writhe against him. "I do."

After Isabella rinsed off in the shower, she found Jasper, still naked, smoking a cigarette in bed. She waltzed over to him before dropping her towel and straddling his lap.

"The Surgeon General would be mighty disappointed in you right now, Senator. Not only smoking, but doing it in bed of all places. Talk about a fire hazard."

He blew the smoke out of his nose, flicking the ashes into the glass dish next to him. "Yeah, well, he's a Republican like me, so he'll probably forgive this little transgression."

She smiled as he turned the cigarette around, allowing her a puff. After they smoked it down to the filter, Jasper stubbed it out and wrapped his hand through Isabella's hair, bringing her face to his.

"I missed you, beautiful." He sucked her bottom lip into his mouth and nipped it when he felt her readjusting her heated core on his lap. "How was New York?"

After their kisses slowed to a few pecks, Isabella responded. "Went really well, I think. Senator Martinson was extremely satisfied from what I gathered," she boasted with a grin.

Jasper snickered and kissed her again.

"I'm sure you'll be hearing from him shortly regarding the new bill."

"Well, good!" He dug his fingers into the flesh of her ass, picked her up and sat her directly on his crotch, his dick just about ready for round two. "You deserve some extra attention for that one."

She giggled and sighed as his hand moved to cup her, the tips of his fingers sweeping through the wetness that gathered between her legs.

"I certainly do. He was into some kinky shit, too. That man had me holding a whip and wearing Catwoman suit— no lie— and before being ball-gagged, he begged me to ram a neon green dildo up his ass while I blew him." The images she captured on that particular video made her cringe every time she scrolled past the file on her computer.

Jasper guffawed. "I should've pegged that old geezer for a freak." Isabella joined in on the laughter. "Speaking of old geezers…what's the latest with Cullen?"

"I'm seeing him on Sunday, and he's taking me away for Valentine's Day."

"Aww, how sweet," Jasper mocked, slipping a finger inside her slick pussy. "Do I hear wedding bells?"

She shrugged but shuddered, not able to completely concentrate on a conversation when Jasper was getting her off. "Hopefully. The sooner the better, right?"

"That's the plan. We need that capital to keep up the momentum for the campaign."

"Mhmmm," she squeaked, ready to tip over the edge just as he added a second finger and started to lick her neck.

"We're almost there, baby. It's all coming together."

* * *

**A/N: Many thanks to my GREEDy team for their countless hours of help and encouragement: My sinful sisters from other misters, LayAtHomeMom and Hoodfabulous and, of course, my awesome Cabana Girls who've been with me since I published chapter one of Last Call, Born OnHalloween, Cejsmom and LaMomo, the most fantastic beta a Yummy could ask for. LOVE my team!**

**Thanks for reading! xo, Jen**


	5. Chapter 5

**Please remember you're reading a story titled GREED. It's one of the seven deadly sins, folks. As a one-shot (which was made up of these first 6 chapters) it was meant to depict the most ugly side of this sin. This was how I chose to tell the tale as a part of the Seven Deadly Sins SALIGIA compilation last year where each writer in a group of authors was assigned one of the deadly sins and was charged with creating a story based on our interpretation of that sin. There's nothing pretty about greed, I think we can all agree about that. Nothing about these first six chapters will be sunshine and rainbows. My goal with the extended story is to attempt to redeem some of the characters and tell the rest of their tale beyond the one-shot. That's where we'll pick up tomorrow and it will focus more on Edward and Bella. Until then...soak up the ugly side so that the redemption will be all the more welcome.**

* * *

**$GREED$**

After she finished her shopping spree with Carlisle's AMEX card, Isabella climbed into the back of the town car, and pulled out her phone to text Edward. With all the preparations to go away for Valentine's Day with Carlisle, she'd neglected to let Edward know that she needed to flip their weekends. It wasn't like he'd have any plans, so she was sure he wouldn't care in the least.

Ever since they graduated, Isabella and Edward had become much closer. Though they never ever spoke of their feelings, she knew she had a dear friend in him and whenever he asked anything of her, she helped him without thinking twice. She'd moved to Dallas after graduation while Edward, of course, remained in Austin. The drive was about three hours between their two homes, but Isabella made it a point to go down to visit with him at least once a month and she'd spend a night or two in his guest room. Edward was concerned that she'd be taking the trip on her own too much, so at the end of the summer after their graduation he'd made arrangements— which she'd agreed to after much convincing— that Felix would become her driver. Felix still helped Edward whenever possible, but as a new entrepreneur, he knew he needed to make a couple of changes in his reclusive life in order to be successful. He still never left his house, but at least he'd overcome his fear of being seen and made his necessary deals via computer by becoming proficient in Skype and other avenues of cyber communication.

It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out how Isabella earned most of her money, but Felix was ever the professional, never saying a word except when she teased him outright. He simply smiled and drove her whenever she called on him. He took his orders from Edward, who only cared about Isabella's safety. He hated that he didn't have the nerve to move himself to Dallas so that he could still see her more frequently, but with Felix keeping an eye on her, it calmed him a bit.

As far as Isabella knew, Edward believed she earned her paycheck as a staffer for Senator Whitlock. The fact that she fucked Jasper, and many others, in order to keep her bank account nicely padded was her own business. To be honest, the thought of Edward knowing what she did was the only time she felt any sense of guilt about her vile actions. There was such an innocence in him, it almost shamed her at the thought that he could ever find out she was selling her body to the highest bidder in order to gain as much power and influence as possible.

**Hi there. My week has been crazy, and I totally forgot to ask you if we can reschedule our weekend. I'm going away for work. Can I come see you on the weekend of the 21st?**

His response took longer than normal.

_It's okay to reschedule, but something's just come up that I really need to discuss with you as soon as possible. Is there any chance you can come here before you go away for the weekend?_

Isabella flipped to this week's calendar. She didn't have any responsibilities until Thursday evening with Emmett. And truth be told, once she and Carlisle went public with their relationship, Emmett would probably drop her like a bad habit . . . or maybe he wouldn't? It made no difference to Isabella. She was fine continuing their rendezvous as long as he kept paying. Of course, she'd be Emmett's stepmother at that point. The thought made her cackle out loud. Maybe he'd start calling her "Mommy" in bed.

_Sick, sick, sick_, Isabella laughed at herself while she texted back. She knew she was going straight to hell, but it would be a lovely ride.

**Not a problem. Give me tonight to organize things and pack a bag, then Felix and I will come down tomorrow and stay till Wednesday.**

_I appreciate it. Thank you, Isabella._

"Felix, I'm rearranging my week and we're heading down to see Edward tomorrow. Does that work for you?"

"Yes, ma'am. Not a problem."

She started to raise the privacy window, but stopped when Felix started talking again.

"You know, they're predicting that ice storm to hit late Tuesday night. If it happens, it might hinder our traveling on Wednesday."

Isabella shrugged. "Well, if it does, we'll just come back early on Thursday. Edward sounded pretty insistent that he needs to see me. I don't want to let him down."

**.**

**.**

**.**

"Thanks for coming," Edward smiled, holding the door open for them. Felix brought up her overnight bag and dropped it in the guest bedroom as she made herself comfortable in the darkened living room. The sky was eerie with the threatening storm. Maybe the weather gurus got it right for once.

"I'm going to take care of this list, Edward. I'll be back a little later."

"Okay, thanks Felix."

Isabella gave Felix a wave as Edward came over and sat next to her on the couch. He turned and flashed a wistful smile. "It means a lot that you dropped everything to come down here for me."

"Anything for you, my love," she joked, quickly touching his hand. "So, what's this all about?"

He looked at the windows as they started to ping with the sound of rain mixed with sleet.

"Truth be told, I was looking forward to our weekend together, but then when you cancelled, I knew I couldn't put off seeing you."

Isabella cocked her head, trying to read him better. "Well, you've got me now. And I'm sorry I had to reschedule on you like that. I take my calendar very seriously, and completely failed in not telling you ahead of time."

He waved her off with a shrug. "It's all right. I just miss you and the way we used to hang out during school."

She nodded. "Yeah, we had some silly times in this dark apartment." They both laughed at her quip. "So, what's on the roster for the rest of the afternoon? Clue? Monopoly? Battleship?"

"We can definitely play some games, but I wanted to show you something, too."

He picked up a remote control and aimed it toward the impressive, ebony bookcase. A double-shelf of books shifted gingerly in silence and a big screen television suddenly appeared in its place. Her eyes were wide with shock.

"Holy shit, you bought a TV?" Isabella giggled and jumped up from the couch to examine the machine. "What made you do this?"

"You're always talking about your television shows. I figured it was time to see what all the fuss was about."

She turned around with a smile on her face and found it matched his. "Well, this is a fun surprise, Edward Masen. You get a gold star for this move." She sat back down next to him, practically nudging his hip. "I'm proud of you."

Those four words lit up the insides of Edward's heart like a fireworks display on the Fourth of July. It made him want to believe in his plans for the future. He just had to wait for the right moment to make his intentions known.

**.**

**.**

**.**

"So, your timing couldn't have been more perfect," Isabella announced to Edward who just walked into the living room, freshly showered. "A quarter of an inch of ice accumulated over night. There's a state of emergency across almost all of Texas. Felix and I won't be able to go anywhere until tomorrow."

Edward snickered. "I doubt he'll mind very much."

"Why do you say that?"

"Because he finally got a chance to take out a girl he's been communicating with for the last couple of months. He already called me to ask if I needed him for anything today."

Isabella's jaw dropped. "You mean he's downstairs in his apartment with a girl? And she spent the night with him?"

Edward smiled, nodding shyly. "Well, you spent the night here, too. Doesn't mean that anything happened between them."

"HA!" She couldn't help the obnoxious laugh that burst forth. "You're so cute, Edward. You're clueless, but totally cute."

He walked toward the kitchen, trying to hide the hurt he felt at that jab. Just because he'd never acted on his desires toward the opposite sex didn't mean he was completely devoid of them.

"Want some waffles?"

"Yeah, sounds great!" Isabella flicked the remote, fell into the couch and got lost in the brainless world of the Real Housewives of Atlanta.

.

.

.

By mid-afternoon, Edward's building had lost power and they were playing Scrabble by candlelight. The irony of being back in his dark apartment again wasn't lost on Isabella. Did it ever really matter whether the electricity worked?

"Can I ask you a question?"

Isabella nodded as she plunked down two more tiles with the word shy. "Go for it. Triple word score, by the way."

"Did you ever have a nickname growing up, or were you always Isabella?"

She snorted. "Actually, my mom called me Bella. She said one of the nurses who helped deliver me was Italian and kept referring to me as _bella faccia_ when I was born."

"Beautiful face."

"You speak Italian?" She smiled, shaking her head. "Of course you do. I should've known. But yeah, Bella stuck . . . even though I never really bought into it."

"Bought into what?"

"That I had a beautiful face . . . that I was beautiful at all." She shrugged. "That's why I insisted on being called Isabella in school and stuff."

Edward played the word try vertically off her shy. "What if I started calling you Bella?"

Their gazes locked and her breath caught in her throat. "Why would you do that?"

He hesitated, but then drew from a pool of inner strength he didn't even know existed. "Because you are." Edward forced out a sigh of relief but was met with silence. "Say something . . . please."

Isabella straightened her posture and crossed her legs. "What do you want me to say?" she croaked, unsure for the first time in her life.

Edward promised himself before she arrived that he was going to be brutally honest with her before she left to go away for the weekend. He had nothing to lose at this point.

"Let me call you Bella, because you are . . ." His hand crept across the board and he laid it on top of hers and jumped off the cliff. "I—I want to be with you. I've felt this way for a long time." He took another deep breath. "This is me being straight with you. I've fallen in love with you, Bella, and I— I want you to make love to me."

Her mind raced. If any other man dropped on her a line like that, she'd bat her eyes and do what came naturally. But with Edward, he was untouched. And she was . . . dirty. So dirty. She never had a pang of guilt or shame over the way she lived her life. She set goals, she worked hard for them. She used her intelligence on a daily basis, but she did it while she spread her legs so that the right people would listen. Always in pursuit of money . . . always in pursuit of power. That was the pinnacle.

Only Edward, in his innocence, could make her feel remorseful over the depravity of her life's choices. He didn't deserve this blemish on him. She had no problem living the life she did . . . but to tarnish Edward's world? She'd never forgive herself.

Isabella stood up from their board game on the floor. "I'm gonna go lie down."

"Bella, wait."

She whipped her head around. "It's Isabella, Edward. And please . . . just don't."

He scrambled up off the floor and followed her into the guest room as she stretched out on the bed with her back to him.

"Isabella, please don't shut me out."

"You mean like you've shut the world out? How you've holed yourself up in this lap of luxury lifestyle, but don't bother turning on the fucking lights to see the beauty that surrounds you?" Her head crashed back on the pillow after she made her valid argument. "You're a goddamn hypocrite."

"I—I have a clinical disorder."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah . . . and you could get help." She shook her head. "Don't bullshit a bullshitter, Edward. I lay it on nice and thick every day in my job. I play a part to get a job done."

"I know."

"Yeah, whatever . . . you know," she seethed. "Do you even have a fucking clue what I do for a living?"

"You work for Senator Whit—"

"As an _escort_, Edward. Yes, I'm on his staff, but I've also been having an affair with him for almost two years, and I sleep with men for money. Lots of men. He's practically my pimp. I earn gobs of money for me, yes, but also money for him and his campaign. Together we're going to get all the way to Pennsylvania Avenue."

Edward swallowed tightly, listening to Isabella's confession. "I know all of that."

She tossed a look over her shoulder. "You know I'm a whore, and you still want me?" She shook her head. "I should've known Felix was a talker."

"It wasn't Felix. He's never betrayed your confidence."

She was annoyed and intrigued enough now to turn over and sit up. "So how then?"

He shook his head. "Somebody else I hired to follow you." Her face blanched at his confession. "It was more for your protection than anything else. I was always so worried for your safety."

"Let's set aside for a second the fact that you had some freak stalk me for God knows how long. We can come back to that later. But, knowing all that you know about me . . . you want me to fuck you? Like you're just another dick with a hefty bank account that I can get my hands on? I've never made love a day in my life."

"I just thought maybe—"

"That's your problem, Edward, you think too much." She flopped back onto her side, punching the pillow under her head. "Fuck you. Fuck you for thinking that any of this seduction scene would work. How dare you put me in this position?!"

Edward's stomach was in his throat. He'd messed this up so terribly. For the first time in his life, he was actually fearful of losing something he'd allowed himself to care about. Minutes passed. Since he'd come clean just as she had, he figured there was no reason to pull back now. He tentatively laid down next to Isabella, mirroring her position even though her back was still to him.

"Please don't go away this weekend."

"I have to."

"You don't," he pleaded. "You could stay with me. I could show you what's real . . . what's true."

Isabella shook her head as tears spilled from her eyes. Damn Edward for trying to pull her back. She knew what she was doing. He couldn't be what she needed from this life. He just didn't get it and he never would. She lived for being the center of attention . . . lived for the daylight. She'd never find happiness and contentment in the shadows.

.

.

.

Sometime in the middle of the night, Isabella stirred when the bed shifted behind her. She'd cried herself to sleep earlier, not realizing Edward must've stayed. It was comforting . . . and heartbreaking.

"Are you awake?"

"Yes," she replied softly. Her tone held the anguish and guilt that she despised feeling. Again, an unfamiliar emotion and she hated every moment of it.

"I have something for you."

She turned over and found Edward sitting at the edge of the bed holding a small, antique-looking bedside lamp. With a bulb. And it was on. A light was on in Edward's house.

"I uhhh— I bought this for you last month. I mean, technically it's for me," he said ruefully. "I was going to give it to you as a Valentine's Day gift."

She stared at him, then back at the lamp. This was unprecedented. Incredible. The effort he made in just this very ordinary gesture must've terrified him. But he stepped out on a ledge and did it anyway. He turned a light on in his house. It tugged at the edges of Isabella's shredded, darkened heart.

"I figured we'd keep it in this guest room . . . your room. When you're here, there's always a natural light. But then when you're gone, at least I'll still have something that can shine in your place."

Isabella couldn't focus on anything but him. His words, his innocent looks and this amazingly thoughtful and courageous gift.

She flew across the bed and her lips collided with his. He was tentative at first, but didn't pull away. He'd bolstered himself in the hopes that she'd return his feelings someday. When the reality hit him that he was actually kissing Isabella, he moaned and slipped his tongue in her mouth. Their kiss was slow and wet . . . sensual. Everything he'd imagined it would be.

She'd been up on her knees, running her fingers through his hair as he dropped the lamp on the floor and pushed her backwards into the pillows. Once his body covered hers, he found his voice again.

"I don't know what I'm doing."

She cupped his cheek and kissed him chastely. "That's okay . . . I do."

They slowly undressed each other, kissing along the way. He was gentle with her. She studied him as he kissed her ankles, behind her knees, her wrists. His tongue flicked at her erect nipples and she rocked into his hand, trying to find relief as the pads of his fingers grazed her clit.

He never lost his nerve and for that moment, she dropped the persona she always projected with her other clients.

This was Edward. He was different . . . and he deserved different.

"I don't have any uhh…protection," he whispered while she sucked on his neck, his hands roaming and discovering all he wanted to know about her body.

She pulled away and reached for her purse on the night stand, removing a condom from an inside pocket. Not wanting to embarrass him by asking, Isabella took care of sheathing him and straddled his lap. With their eyes locked, she sank down slowly and stilled when he was fully engulfed within her.

"Are you okay?" she purred, running her hands down his chest.

He nodded rapidly. "Are you?"

She smiled. "Just relax."

Isabella did her best to help his first time be a memorable one. Her hips rolled as she moved up and down, drawing out his pleasure. When she leaned forward, her breasts rubbed against his chest hair while they kissed and nipped at each other. He met her thrusts, a death grip on her ass that made her feel possessed by him.

Just as she sped up, Isabella was startled when Edward wrapped his arms around her back and rolled them over. They exchanged smirks and he began to drive into her without hesitation.

"Fuck," she panted, "right there, Edward . . . yes."

Her words spurred him on while boosting his ego, encouraging him to plunge into her harder, faster. When she brought her legs up, so that her knees were alongside his shoulders, he groaned at the adjustment and kissed her feverishly. Just as her orgasm hit and she tightened and pulsed around him, he put his weight on his propped arms to watch where their bodies were joined.

"Oh, God."

Her lips found his again and she swirled her tongue in his mouth. When she squeezed him, his hips pistoned, deep and hard before he shuddered, losing his rhythm through an earth-shattering orgasm.

Their kiss slowed and he pulled his face back to look in her eyes, the lamp still illuminating the room from its position on the floor. She offered him a soft smile that didn't reach her eyes, but he was too high from their encounter to really pay attention. She knew this changed nothing about her future, but it changed everything about her relationship with Edward.

Nobody was going to walk away from this night unscathed.

.

.

.

"Where are you going?"

Isabella glanced his way but continued to shove her clothes in her bag before she pulled on her sneakers.

"I need to be back in Dallas by three. Felix is pulling the car around to the front for me now."

Edward shook his head in disbelief. "You're— you're still leaving? But I thought last night meant—"

"Last night meant nothing."

The life in his eyes vanished, his shoulders slumped forward. Isabella froze after hearing the words that hung in the air, and her heart clenched for probably the first time in her life. She didn't mean that being together with him meant nothing. She meant to say that it didn't change anything . . . it couldn't.

"Nothing," he repeated.

"I can't reverse my course, Edward. I have a plan, and I need to stick to it. I never meant for any of this to happen. Of all the people in the world, you're the last person I'd ever want to hurt . . . you have to know that. I care about you so much, but I won't change who I am, I can't . . . not even for you."

Anger and betrayal flooded his mind and shattered heart. He sprang from the bed, still naked and stomped across the hall to his bedroom, slamming the door behind him.

Isabella flinched at the loud crack, but wouldn't be deterred. She could've amended her words, but perhaps if she left them the way they were interpreted, it would help Edward have a clean break.

She closed her eyes in resolve and hoisted her bag on her shoulders, walking out of her room. Before she got to the front door, she heard his bedroom door swing open again and she turned.

"Here." Edward surged forward, now wearing jeans. "I don't know what the going rate is, but I wouldn't want you to do anything pro bono." He shoved a fist full of cash toward her chest.

Tears stung at the corners of her eyes, but she tried to pull herself back. "Please . . . don't do this, Edward."

"What? I'm a paying customer, right? And like you told me, you're a whore trying to add to your gobs of money, so take it. A thousand? Two? You spent the night, I don't know if that adds to the tab." He stared daggers into her eyes, unflinching. "What do I owe you?"

Isabella couldn't stop the tears that escaped. She studied his hand and made a decision which would hopefully be the final nail in the coffin that ended this painful moment.

"Three for the night, including services rendered."

He nodded, satisfied. "Not bad." Edward counted out thirty hundred-dollar bills and placed them in her open palm. "Thanks for your time."

He spun on his bare feet and stormed back toward his bedroom, slamming the door again. Tears continued to flood her eyes and a sob escaped. As quickly as the emotions washed over her, she scrubbed her face and cleared her throat.

She needed to get her head back in the game. It was Thursday and Emmett would be expecting her this evening.

* * *

**A/N: Many thanks to my GREEDy team for their countless hours of help and encouragement: My sinful sisters from other misters, LayAtHomeMom and Hoodfabulous and, of course, my awesome Cabana Girls who've been with me since I published chapter one of Last Call, Born OnHalloween, Cejsmom and LaMomo, the most fantastic beta a Yummy could ask for. LOVE my team!**

**Thanks for reading! xo, Jen**


	6. Chapter 6

**$GREED$**

Carlisle scooped Isabella up early on Friday morning- Valentine's Day- grabbed the Cullen jet and by noon, they were relaxing on a private beach in St. Maarten having just christened their double lounge chair.

"Was this a good surprise?" he murmured while his lips ghosted over her sun-kissed shoulders.

She smiled as best she could, trying to keep Edward out of her mind. "Very. This is a treat." She rolled toward him and nuzzled his neck while his hand danced up her naked side.

"I have something to say to you." She licked and kissed him below his jaw and he chuckled. "But I can't get through it while you're distracting me."

"Sorry," she stopped lazily stroking his cock and giggled. "I'll behave."

Carlisle reached behind him and opened up a small velvet box to her widening eyes. She was staring at a four-karat, emerald cut diamond. She knew this might happen soon, but certainly didn't expect it this weekend.

"Isabella, I love you. These last ten months have been amazing for me. You've changed my world. I know turning away from your life as an escort wasn't easy, but you did it for me and it showed me how much you trusted me, believing I could give you the better life you deserved."

She smiled . . . played her part. It was all coming together like Jasper said it would.

"And I want to marry you. I want to marry you this weekend."

"What?" she sputtered. He couldn't be serious.

"Just hear me out." He pulled her up into a sitting position on their chair. "I haven't been completely honest with you."

Her brows furrowed. "What's going on?"

"I'm sick, really sick," he confessed, sighing. "I only found out two weeks ago and knew I needed to make some fast decisions. I want to know that you'll be by my side for however long I have. Esme was the love of my life and the mother of my child, but you've been the shot in my arm I needed ever since I lost her two years ago.

"You've made me laugh and allowed me to feel as if I was the luckiest man in the world to have you on my arm. I know I'm not who you imagined you'd spend forever with, but I've cherished this time together and I thank you. And I want to continue to thank you . . . for as long as I have left."

Isabella swallowed, looking between Carlisle's sincere eyes and the dazzling diamond in the red velvet box. She was about to inherit Cullen Oil from her nearly-deceased husband-to-be. This was a no-brainer.

"Of course I'll marry you."

.

.

.

Isabella and Carlisle were wed two days later at sunset on the beach. Carlisle knew Emmett wouldn't approve of Isabella, because nobody could ever take the place of his mother. And he respected that enough to not rub it in his son's face. Emmett knew his father had been seeing somebody for several months, but Emmett also told Carlisle he wanted nothing to do with this new fling.

Isabella, after talking to Jasper, cleared her schedule to give as much attention to her new husband as he deserved. Almost immediately after they were married, she could see how his energy was waning and the pill-popping he did when he was in pain was a clear indicator that there was only a finite amount of time that Carlisle had left. Stage four cancer, advancing at an alarming rate . . . he never even bothered to consider chemo or radiation. He just wanted some painkillers and to live out his final days as happily as possible.

It made her wistful to some degree. He'd always been sweet to her, treated her like a queen. But it was never about love . . . it was never about love with any of them, not even Jasper. And ultimately, not even Edward, although the lingering pain from their scene that final morning together ate away at her psyche. All she could do was try to focus on her husband, but the hurt in Edward's eyes was a visual she couldn't erase no matter what she did.

When thoughts of Edward got too overwhelming, she'd remind herself of her goals. It was only ever about the bottom line. And if any or all of the men that Isabella screwed along the way gained her more power, then it would always be worth it. There was nothing more to think about.

Once Carlisle was bedridden weeks later, he was medevac'd home to Dallas where hospice was called in to help Isabella in his final days. Emmett was waiting for them when they arrived.

Unable to hide his confusion and then shock when Isabella walked through his father's door, Emmett stood in stunned silence. This was the woman his father had been seeing?

While the hospice team set Carlisle up in his bedroom, Emmett took that opportunity to pull Isabella by the arm into his father's office downstairs.

"Care to explain what the fuck is going on here?"

Isabella shrugged, innocence playing on her face. "What? Your father is dying and he could use your compassion."

"I mean, why the fuck are you here, with a goddamn iceberg on your ring finger, and why is my father calling you 'sweetheart'? _You're_ the one he'd been seeing since last year?"

"Yes."

Emmett cringed in disgust and stepped toward her, towering over her small frame. "So all the while we were meeting, you mean to tell me you were fucking my father at the same time?"

She nodded, not understanding why Emmett couldn't fathom the connection of the amoral dots. This was her job, and she excelled at her job.

"How could you do this?"

"Emmett, you've known since the first night we met that I was an escort. My client list was never any business of yours, so it seemed of little significance that I tell you. What I do, and _who_ I do— when I'm not with you— has nothing to do with us."

His hands flew to his head. "It has EVERYTHING to do with us. I was sleeping with the same woman my father was sleeping with! This is fucking incestuous!"

Isabella rolled her eyes. "Oh, Emmett. Don't be so dramatic. I care about your father. He's a genuine man who's only ever been kind to me. I gave him a good time and made him feel happy when he was terribly lonely. I did what I do best. Don't go getting holier than thou and destroying your father's feelings days before he dies. Keep your mouth shut. This doesn't have to change anything between us."

Emmett barked out a laugh. "The fuck it doesn't!" He threw the office door open and darted out the front door without looking back. Isabella's only regret in that moment was the thought that she'd be losing two clients in such a short span of time.

.

.

.

Two days later, with Isabella by his side, Carlisle passed away. His wish was to be cremated and interred with his first wife. A memorial service was planned for two weeks after his death, but not before Emmett and Isabella were brought to Carlisle's lawyer's office for the reading of his will. They were each given individual letters, hand-written by Carlisle before he became incapacitated.

"As it stands, Mr. Cullen's assets will be split evenly between the two of you. He said you'd find the reasons in your personal letters. And with Cullen Oil no longer a factor, those moneys from the sale will simply be halved as well.

"No longer a factor?" Emmett parroted, bewildered.

Isabella's confusion only grew as she opened her letter.

_My darling wife,_

_Though we've only had a short time together, you've given this old man an infinite supply of happy memories. Thank you for being by my side. Ever since Esme died, I'd lost interest in continuing the ruthless business decisions that accompanied my work as the head of Cullen Oil. I would have bequeathed the company to Emmett, but I've always believed that the cornerstone of every marriage was monogamy. People who cheat on their spouses are willing to cheat on anything and everything, and I just don't trust Emmett to not sully the Cullen Oil legacy. I'd been fielding offers over the last year but never acted on anything . . . until my recent diagnosis. I knew I had to make a fast decision and the most recent offer that came across my desk just before we married was the one that felt right. I got a good feeling from the young man I spoke to who was interested in purchasing. He's up and coming, but has still made a good name for himself as an entrepreneur. I knew he was the right choice. And though I sold him the company for a pittance, I know I did the right thing. It reminded me of helping you start out. Helping you turn your life around . . . giving you the opportunity you needed to do great things._

_Please take the money I've left you and be happy, my dear. It's all I've ever wanted in my life, and I hope you find it for the remainder of yours._

_All my love,  
Carlisle_

Isabella felt sick to her stomach as she refolded the letter. The lawyer was typing at his computer and didn't take notice. Emmett on the other hand crumpled up his letter, stood and walked out without another word.

"Th—thank you," Isabella croaked to the man behind the desk.

"You're quite welcome, Mrs. Cullen. So sorry for your loss. We'll messenger over any documents you need to sign. You'll need to be your husband's proxy for the final transaction in the sale of the company."

She nodded, feeling a thickness tighten in her throat, threatening to cut off her breathing.

"Do you have the name of the individual taking over?"

He shuffled through some papers, retrieving one. "Yes. An E.A. Masen. And he bought it for a song. Your husband might've been losing his marbles there in the end."

Isabella felt faint and excused herself from the office. In the lobby she met up with Emmett.

"As if finding out that my father was fucking the same whore I was wasn't bad enough, he went and sold the company right out from under me because I was cheating on Rose." Emmett laughed maniacally. "Cheating on Rose with my father's girlfriend…and now I'm left with nothing. Ain't that some shit. Now I get to work for some little pimple-popper who's probably never even played Monopoly."

Emmett turned without a goodbye, trudging away.

"Oh, he's played Monopoly," she muttered. "I taught him everything he knows."

Isabella pulled out her phone and dialed the private line Jasper established years ago just for her.

_"Yes."_

"Jasper, we have a problem. I just came from Carlisle's lawyer's office. He sold Cullen Oil for not even a fraction of what it's worth." She shook her head, tears welling up, thinking about all the time lost. All the opportunities that flew right out the window…so much power, just gone. "What do we do, now?"

_"I have bigger problems than that right now. Seems my name has been linked to some shady dealings. Anonymous tips brought to the attention of people who have the ability to squash my career."_

She lowered herself to a bench, still in the lobby of the law office. This couldn't be happening.

"What? Who would do this to you?"

_"It's gotta be Peter. I fired him last week when I found him on my personal laptop. I don't know what the fuck he was looking for, but he must've found something. We're not going to be able to stay in contact, Isabella. I have a feeling, if it is Peter and he's that pissed, your name is going to be dropped, too."_

The walls started to close in. Everything Isabella had planned for, been determined to get, was suddenly slipping through her fingers.

_"I can't talk. My advisors just arrived. Good luck, Isabella."_

She knew that translation. When the shit hits the fan, it would be every man for himself. Though she knew she had enough dirt on everyone, including Jasper, to protect herself to an extent, it was of little comfort in the moment. There would be no escape from the public scrutiny, and any chance to continue on this road to power was all but lost.

Isabella took a deep breath and stalked out of the building. Felix straightened at the car door.

"Take me to Austin."

.

.

.

The familiar steel door opened and Isabella marched inside. Edward stood there, unmoving, his eyes trained on hers.

"I just have one question . . . why?"

"It's not personal," he replied, indifferently.

She stepped to him quickly and shoved him, shrieking, "What do you mean it's not personal? This is my life! You ripped away every chance I've worked for!"

"And I offered you an opportunity to walk away from all that. From this shitty life that you've deluded yourself into thinking was smart and beautiful and powerful and prestigious," Edward bellowed. "You were always _all_ of those things, you just never believed in yourself like I believed in you!"

Isabella batted away the angry tears that streamed down her face. "And to think I felt sorry for you. You've leveled me, Edward. You're just as disgusting as all the other men I've dealt with . . . you just hid in the shadows. But I see you now. Your black and white, darkness and light life has been exposed. Your true colors have been splashed all over the place. You're just as tarnished as I am."

Edward said nothing more. What Isabella said wasn't untrue. What he did was horribly devious; he knew he'd be fucking her over. As heinous as this move was, though, the bedside lamp remained lit in the guest room. He never had the balls to turn it off, he just shifted his game once she slaughtered him back in February.

"I'm sure you'll be just fine, Mrs. Cullen. Your dearly departed husband hardly left you destitute."

"You must really hate me."

"What I feel for you doesn't matter. I meant_ nothing_, if I remember correctly."

His flippant tone cut her to the quick.

"What I did will barely even be worth mentioning once you make it to Pennsylvania Avenue, right?"

**"Mrs. Cullen?"** Felix's voice blared through the intercom system. **"I think you're going to want to leave as soon as possible, ma'am. Your picture is on the television right now. You're being linked to the senator in—"**

She interrupted him, not wanting Edward to feel any shred of remorse if he heard the truth of what was about to happen to her world. "Thank you, Felix. I'm on my way."

"Why is your picture on the television?" The concern in Edward's voice seeped through, unintentionally.

Isabella stared back at him with empty eyes. All the life he used to see in them, all the light was suddenly gone. Drive was suddenly replaced with exhaustion.

"Nothing you need to worry yourself about." She made her way to the door, every step heavier with the knowledge that her personal and not-so-professional life was already front-page news. The guillotine platform stood tall in the distance, the gleam of the blade a reminder of her countless sins.

"Good luck, Isabella." Edward called out behind her. "Like I said, it wasn't personal, it was a smart business decision. It's all about power, right? Thanks for teaching me what counts and what doesn't."

* * *

**A/N: For those who've waited patiently (and not so patiently ;) ) over the past three days (or eleven months!), the next chapter picks up where we left off. You made it! Thanks for hanging in there and letting the new readers catch up! **

**Many thanks to my GREEDy team for their countless hours of help and encouragement: My sinful sisters from other misters, LayAtHomeMom and Hoodfabulous and, of course, my awesome Cabana Girls who've been with me since I published chapter one of Last Call, Born OnHalloween, Cejsmom and LaMomo, the most fantastic beta a Yummy could ask for. LOVE my team! **

**Thanks for reading! xo, Jen**


	7. Chapter 7

**$GREED$**

_. . . two weeks later . . ._

Staring at the bathroom door, Felix readjusted his watch for the fourth time in the last ten minutes. He'd give Edward another ten; anything more than that would be cutting it entirely too close. Traffic on I-35 was moderate to heavy even in the middle of the day.

The silence from behind the door was a little unnerving. Not that Felix spent his time listening to the bathroom proclivities of his friend and employer, but come on, make some kind of sound. Cough . . . run the faucet . . . flush the toilet, for crying out loud. Did Edward fall in or something? Felix knew he'd eventually have to intervene.

His pocket vibrated with an incoming text message.

_Sending good wishes for Edward today. Miss you. xC_

His fingers flew across the phone.** Miss you, too. Looking forward to the weekend. Will pass along your message to E. **

Ever since the ice storm in February, he and Claudia had gotten very serious. It took a while before Edward was comfortable enough to meet Claudia, and they'd only hung out as a threesome on a few occasions because of Edward's . . . issues, but she knew all about him, and seemed to genuinely care for him. Speaking of _issues_—

Felix rapped on the bathroom door. "Edward?"

"Yeah." The muffled reply sounded strained at best.

"We need to get on the road in order to make it to Dallas in time for the meeting." He glanced at his wrist. "We're even pushing it, at this point."

A minute later, the door opened, and Edward stared back at his only friend, looking haggard.

"I don't think I'm going to make it," he huffed before bending at the waist, resting his hands on his knees.

Felix blanched. "Edw—"

"I don't mean I'm not going to make it to the meeting itself," he clarified, shaking his head. "I just mean I'm in the midst of a full-blown anxiety attack. I'm pretty sure death is imminent."

Felix eased into his retort as Edward fell back onto the bathroom door and scrubbed his hands over his face. "Everything is taken care of. The stairwells here have been completely blocked off and darkened, my guys made sure of that. The car is parked and running at the foot of the steps in the garage. I specifically requested that the meeting be held in a first-floor conference room with floor to ceiling windows. No unnatural light is necessary. I've taken care of everything . . . you just need to walk out the door, man."

"It's not just that," Edward growled while his hand pounded against the door. "She won't speak to me. I have no idea what's going on with her legal proceedings. I would hire fucking Johnny Cochran as her defense attorney if he wasn't already dead. Her whole world came apart at the seams, and I'm the one holding the scissors . . . I— I did this to her." Slumped over the granite counter, he shook his head in defeat. "I don't know how to prepare for this meeting, Felix. All I've wanted for sixteen days was for her to respond to my messages, but now I'll see her face to face, and I don't know what to expect. If she's in a fucking orange jumpsuit, I'm going to become violently ill."

Felix listened for the thousandth time. Ever since the news broke about Senator Whitlock's shady dealings, and Isabella was outed as Texas's latest cross between Heidi Fleiss and Monica Lewinsky, Edward had become unhinged, feeling completely responsible and desperate to track her down.

"She may not even be there."

"And that's supposed to make me feel better?" Hovering over the sink, Edward splashed water on his face, dried it, and turned toward the front door. "She's not permitted to send a proxy. She _has_ to be there for this."

Felix held the door open, a pensive look on his face. "And maybe she thinks you wouldn't dare leave your apartment . . . so maybe she's going, assuming she won't have to face you."

Edward's jaw slackened. "Is this your version of a pep talk?"

"I'm a little rusty," Felix confessed. "She won't talk to me, either."

Pained, Edward nodded and stepped to the threshold of his door. "I know. I fucked this up royally for all of us."

"She's a grown woman, Edward. She made her choices and you made yours. You could both use a clean slate right about now." Felix pulled the door closed behind both of them, trapping Edward in his vestibule on the 52nd floor for the first time in over seven years. "Ready?"

In the shadows, he could make out Edward's shoulders rising and falling rapidly. Felix needed to get him into the car before he lost his nerve. He'd been practicing stepping out his front door every day for a week and a half. Even if Edward wasn't about to come face to face with the woman he'd ruined, who also happened to be the love of his life, his breathing fresh air for the first time in years was unheard of.

Nine sessions with Claudia's neighbor— a psychologist now on Edward's payroll and available to the man any hour of the day or night— had worked a fucking miracle.

Felix was certain he'd spot flying pigs on the drive north to Dallas.

**$GREED$**

"We're here. Do you n—"

"I need you to stay if you could . . . in the meeting, I mean," Edward talked over Felix. Both men smiled wryly. "I just know that if you're there, all the extra things will be taken care of."

Felix hopped out of the vehicle and opened the door for Edward. "You got it."

It was all the reassurance he needed. Even with all of Edward's eccentricities, Felix had never let him down. Wearing sunglasses that darkened everything around him, Edward followed behind Felix into the small conference room on the first floor of Cullen Oil.

As Edward had requested, only a few essential people attended the meeting. Lawyers for both sides were there, ready to oversee the process. The official paperwork for the sale would be signed, transferring ownership of Cullen Oil from Isabella's hands to Edward's.

One key player was visibly absent, however. Even though Edward arrived with only two minutes to spare, there was still no sign of Isabella.

Edward drummed his fingers along the back of the leather chair at the head of the table. Moments later, the door opened and in walked an older gentleman in a suit, followed by another mammoth of a man, a detective's badge attached to his belt. Astonished, Edward wondered whether the authorities really worried that Isabella would bolt and need to be taken down by this professional wrestler. She weighed a quarter of what this guy did. It only deepened Edward's guilt and anguish.

"Mrs. Cullen will be in shortly," the older man offered. "I'm Jason Jenks, her late husband's personal attorney."

Edward straightened his stance, swallowing tightly as his gaze darted to Felix.

"Mr. Masen, please have a seat, and we can get started." Edward reluctantly pulled out the rolling leather chair and lowered himself. Felix remained standing behind him while the other men took their seats and shuffled through papers.

Edward's stare was trained on the detective posted at the front corner of the room. Just as the lawyers started chatting about paperwork in triplicate, the door opened, and Isabella came into view through the glass windows of the lobby.

As she walked into the conference room without saying a word, Edward immediately jumped out of his chair in an attempt at chivalry. She wore jeans and a sweater, with her hair pulled back and her face make-up free. Isabella called this her "plain Jane look", but she still looked stunning in his eyes. It reminded him of the times they'd stay up late on the weekends she'd visit. After her shower, she'd slip into some comfortable pajamas and meet him in the living room for a late-night Scrabble game. She'd wear her glasses and her hair up then, too. Except on those visits, they'd be laughing and smiling together. Right now, there was none of that, just a listlessness about her and uncontrollable anguish within him.

Isabella avoided any eye contact with Edward, taking the seat held out for her by the detective instead.

Though formal charges hadn't been filed yet, it was no secret that Isabella was in enormous legal trouble, so everyone kept the mindless chatter to a minimum during the meeting. Lawyers passed documents around the table with some brief explanations as to what was being signed next. It all took less than ten minutes before Edward was named owner of Cullen Oil.

The detective whispered in Isabella's ear. She nodded and stood with only the slightest hint of a smile.

"Thank you, Mr. Jenks," she muttered.

He nodded. "You're welcome, ma'am. Take care."

Edward pulled away from the third man who was shaking his hand and stepped quickly to intercept Isabella at the door.

"May I speak with you?"

Her jaw tensed as the burly man with a badge came up behind her.

"Mrs. Cullen's time is not her own. We need to get back."

"I'm sorry, Bella," he quickly whispered, "Please, may I come visit you so that we can talk? Where are you staying?"

Her eyes locked on his for the first time since she stormed out of his home last month.

"There's nothing to be sorry for, Edward," she mumbled, unable to muster anything more than indifference. "I did this to myself. Go live your life."

He pinched his eyes shut. "But you won't speak to me. Can't I at least—"

"There's nothing to talk about," she snapped, walking toward the door and the police escort waiting for her.

Before Isabella crossed the threshold, he called out again, this time in desperation. "The light is still on…your light!"

She stopped in her tracks and turned back to him.

"It's been on ever since you left me on February 13th. I—I never turned it off," he confessed as he stepped closer, hoping it would stir up the vitality and shine he used to see in her eyes.

Instead, she froze for a moment, pondering, and then exited without a word.

A lump jammed Edward's throat as he looked around the room watching a Cullen Oil security guard follow them out.

"She wants nothing to do with me," Edward murmured before stuffing his hands in his pockets. "Did she acknowledge you?"

Felix shook his head as he approached. "Barely. A side look and a head nod . . . almost."

"Mr. Masen, thank you again!" The lawyers for both sides called out, waving, like Edward was a superstar. He nodded and stepped through the doorway behind Felix.

"At least you got something approaching positive. She hates me, clearly."

The car remained at the curb as instructed, so Edward didn't have to deal with any more socializing or open air than necessary. Once he was in the vehicle, he tilted his head back on the seat and huffed, thankful that he made it through the meeting without breaking down.

"She doesn't hate you, Edward." Felix's disembodied voice came through the partition as he lowered it. "She probably doesn't even know where to begin. Her life is in the toilet right now."

That notion didn't make Edward feel any better. He'd been sick ever since she stormed out on that fateful day. He tortured himself endlessly, listening to the media speculating on all her crimes, those who were implicated, and the penalties she could face as a result.

"I can't stand the thought of her in prison," he choked out, his anxiety rising again. "She doesn't belong there." Edward didn't add the "she belongs with me" part. It was already understood. "How long?"

Felix raised his eyebrows. "You mean how long will she be incarcerated?" He shrugged. "It's all going to depend on whether she makes a deal with the Feds. She's really not the one they want, Edward. It's the crooked politicians. Whitlock, Gimble, McAfee, Travis . . . all the men she's been linked to."

_All the men._ Edward's stomach rolled again.

"And yeah, she'll get in trouble to an extent, but those are the fish the government will really want to fry. But again, she's going to _have_ to cooperate. "

Edward's vision blurred as he stared out the window. The crammed city streets of mid-town Dallas eventually gave way to an open, endless highway. He knew in his heart that Isabella's pride would be difficult to squash. She'd probably attempt to be noble and not reveal any of the names of politicians she carried on with; discretion always seemed of the utmost importance to her. Were it not for the private investigator Edward hired to keep tabs on her for all those years, he'd never have had a clue how she spent her time when she and Edward weren't together.

Her pride and ultimate stupidity would be the death of him. All he ever wanted to do was save her from herself.

For now, though, he was left with the same general information he'd garnered from the news reports.

_Not good enough,_ he thought to himself.

There had to be a way to get to her.

* * *

**A/N: As I mentioned before, my intent is to post these chapters every Sunday and Wednesday until the story is completed. **

**Much love and thanks to my incredible team of GREEDy girls: Hoodie, Lay, Cejsmom, Born and Momo...clear-headed, intelligent, rational and cool as a cucumber, as always. Thanks for being the Felix to my Edward. ;) **

**See you Sunday! Thanks for reading. **

**xo, Jen**


	8. Chapter 8

**$GREED$**

"_But, is it true? What they're saying about you?"_

Isabella flopped on the hotel's couch, her mother talking her ear off. At least it wasn't another heavy breather prank calling her again. She'd had several of those calls over the last few days, and they were getting tiresome.

Renee, ever the flake, who had no internet connection and apparently no contact with a television until a few days ago, had only recently started blowing up Isabella's cell phone once she learned of her daughter's legal troubles.

"_Have you really been sleeping with public officials and b—bribing them?"_

"Mom. I can't talk about any of this on the phone."

"_Well, that doesn't exactly give me warm and fuzzy feelings, Bella."_

Isabella's responding chortle was sarcastic at best. "Trust me, there's nothing warm and fuzzy about any of this." She took a slow drag from her cigarette before tipping her head back. "How are_ you_ doing? Nobody's come after you at all, have they? No press or rag mags?"

"_Oh no, not a word. You know me . . . I'm never in one place long enough for people to figure me out. Jeremy and I just got back from camping in Sedona for a month. That's why I didn't hear about anything until now." _

"Who's Jeremy? What happened to Phil?"

Renee's tittering made Isabella's eyes roll_. "Oh, who knows? I haven't seen him since March. I came home from the beach one day to find his closet cleared out and a peace sign drawn in baby powder on the bathroom counter. I'm sure one of the little beach bunnies from spring break caught his eye and he followed her."_

"He left with a college girl?" Isabella shook her head. "Mom, that's disgusting."

"_Meh . . . live and let live, I always say. Well, anyway, can I come out to see you? Take care of my little girl?"_

Thankfully, Isabella didn't have to lie to her on this topic. "My accounts were frozen. I have no real money to fly you out here after posting my own bail. I'm living off what little cash I had stashed. I'm sorry."

"_Oh, I have money, sweetie. Jeremy said he could take care of the airfare."_

"I don't know. Let me find out some more about what's going to happen here, and I'll let you know, okay?"

Renee hummed in disappointment. _"Well, please don't think on it for too long. I want to be there for you. You've always taken care of me during the lean times." _

"Is that what this is? A lean time?"

"_You know what I mean. You haven't needed me for anything all these years. I want you to know that I'd like to be needed in this situation . . . if _you _want me, of course."_

"I have a meeting later this afternoon. I'll call you soon."

"_Sounds good. I love you, Bella."_

"You too."

As soon as Isabella ended the call, her cell immediately rang again. She assumed her mother must've accidentally redialed.

"Yeah?" Silence greeted her. She took the phone away from her ear and saw that it was a private number. "Hellooooo? Anyone there?"

Three consecutive beeps sounded before the line was disconnected. It was a little unnerving, but she shrugged it off as just another fluke. As long as the gossip hounds didn't track her down, she was fine.

**$GREED$**

"_Miss Tiani?"_ Isabella cringed at the ludicrous pseudonym she'd given herself when she checked into the hotel. The horribly botched way of saying _Swan_ in Chinese made sense at the time, given her undying love of Chinese food. Plus, her world had blown up around her, and she needed to escape the media shitstorm quickly but legally. She'd chosen to be away from Dallas, but not so far that she couldn't get back when her presence was required. The state agreed that Abilene was a fair locale for her to stay until further notice.

"_This is Liam Fogarty, front desk manager here at the Marriott. We have a gentleman who's been in and out of our lobby approximately fifteen hours a day for the last two days. He says he's here to see you. Do you need us to do something? Call the authorities, perhaps?_

Rolling her eyes, she shook her head, remembering the email she'd received from Edward several days ago.

**I've sent Felix to keep you company if you ever need him. Please don't punish him because you're angry with me. I want to make this right. Please, can I make it right? **

"No, no authorities necessary. Just . . ." she groused, "just send him to my room."

A few minutes later, her former driver stood at her door with an unsure smile. His arms were overflowing with groceries. "Hi." His greeting was tentative at best.

"Hello." She was just as timid, given their explosive last moments alone the month prior.

"What's all this?"

Felix shuffled past her toward the corner table near the window and set down the half dozen plastic bags he'd been hauling. "Care package."

She quirked her brow, leaning against the wall. "Yeah, right." Isabella felt small and unsure in his company. They both knew her presence used to saturate an entire room, her vibrancy unable to be contained. It came with the territory. Her life had been about making the deal; she did whatever she had to do, whether it required her sitting at a conference table or lying flat on her back, it didn't matter . . . it was only ever about the bottom line, the money, and the power. That feisty young woman was nowhere in sight, though.

"This is just the non-perishables. Chock full of preservatives, just how you always liked them," he joked. A genuine smile appeared on her face. "I made a phone call a few minutes ago, and the perishables will be here within the hour."

"Felix . . . you really didn't have to do this."

"Well, it was either wait you out and sneak in while you were sleeping, or bring it all back to Edward." He removed his jacket and sighed. "And I _really_ didn't want to have to do that."

"I'm surprised he hasn't jumped out of one of your bags." She gestured toward the table before opening the mini-freezer and pulling out a box of stuffed potato skins. "Lunch?"

He held up his hand. "No, thanks. And no . . . no surprise guests today. Edward figured you'd never open the door if he was around."

She went about arranging her frozen snacks on the plate before punching the numbers into the microwave. She didn't bother pursuing the topic of Edward; it was too painful. "Dare I ask how you knew I was here?"

Felix looked down at his clasped hands. His non-response was all the answer she needed.

"Should I assume it was the same investigator Edward hired all those years ago? The one who informed him of exactly how I spent every seedy moment of my life since Edward and I became friends?"

"That's a fair assumption."

She gave an unsurprised nod and tested her skins, annoyed at the boiling hot drips of cheese on the edge versus the center of the potato, which remained ice cold.

"So, what's the deal?" She fell into the couch with a huff. "Aside from the food delivery service, what brings you out here to Abilene?"

"Well, first off, thank you for letting me come up. I didn't think you would ever break, given the way we left things . . ." He smiled sadly, knowing she must've swallowed a good chunk of pride to agree to see him. "Anyway, I was hoping I could get you to listen, I suppose. I know I've always kept our relationship professional, kept you at arm's length . . . I mean, with the exception of that final evening . . ." he trailed off, furrowing his brow.

She sighed, unable to emotionally revisit the last time Felix drove for her. Again, the pain was just too raw.

"I just felt like I needed to reach out. I want you safe. I'm worried about you. And I hate that you cut me out. I mean, I know I'm sort of a package deal, but . . ."

"I'll be fine, Felix. This is my fucked up mess. I don't need to drag you down, too." She shrugged, seemingly resigned to her fate. "You should go back to Edward. He doesn't have anybody."

"No, _you_ don't have anybody, Isabella!" Felix's raised voice shocked them both. With the exception of the night he last drove her, it was the first time he'd ever called her by her first name. "Edward has me. He'll always have me. But you . . ." He shook his head. "Everyone you ever considered a friend has high-tailed it out of your life or sold you out to TMZ."

"Shows you what you know. Rodrigo from housekeeping and I have great talks when he comes to change the linens and empty my trash."

Felix pierced her with his stare, clearly not in the mood to joke.

"Edward just wants to talk to you. He wants to help however he can."

She shook her head as her phone buzzed with a text. "He looked after his own needs and future. Nothing wrong with that."

"Yeah, well, when you do it out of spite and hurt feelings but then regret it every second afterwards . . . there's definitely something wrong. He's . . . despondent."

Isabella flinched, recalling the last few memories she had of Edward. Barely acknowledging him on the day he took over Cullen Oil to their confrontation after Carlisle's death when she discovered he bought out the company. Then, of course, the most gut-wrenching flashback from when he handed her three thousand dollars in cash, paying her like the whore she was.

The microwave beeped again, snapping her out of her wretched thoughts. "It is what it is. I was on such a self-destructive path. He's better off without me." She wiped an unexpected tear from under her eye. "He just doesn't realize it."

The phone buzzed again, and she reached to grab it as Felix crossed the room to take a seat next to her on the couch. Isabella didn't recognize the number but she opened it anyway.

**Make no mistake, Mrs. Cullen. We're quite aware of where you are and what you know. Be sure to choose wisely when you speak to the detectives tonight. We'll be watching. **

Isabella studied the text long enough that Felix witnessed her expression turn from curiosity to concern.

"Everything all right?"

She blinked, shaking off her stunned silence. "I . . . I don't know. Got a couple of prank calls over the last few days and now this." Her stomach sank when she surmised who might've authored the message.

She handed the phone to Felix— the only outside person who knew her comings and goings, as well as the people she had interactions with over the years. The only other person who could appreciate the gravity of this message.

His confusion morphed into anger instantly. "This isn't all right, Isabella. This is fucking far from all right."

She swallowed tightly, the change in Felix's demeanor so out of character that it made her anxiety skyrocket.

Cool as a cucumber, though his tone sounded anything but, Felix slid off the couch and took out his phone. He walked in silence to the window before peering through the drawn curtains and putting the phone to his ear. "Edward . . . we have a problem."

**$GREED$**

"You're out of options, Mrs. Cullen. The state's attorney is ready to put you away until you're old and gray unless you give up a name."

Detective Denali tossed the evidence file on the conference room table. "Are you really going to let all these men just ride a simple wave of bad press and nothing more while you take the fall? Was the sex that good?"

Isabella ran her fingers through her hair, hunching further over the table. "I never wanted to be this person." Her voice was barely a whisper. She cupped her palms over her mouth, her vision blurring as she stared at the painting of the Dallas skyline. _I was so fucking close to having it all_, she berated herself silently. But there was no going back now . . . not if she wanted to continue to breathe fresh air, or see her next birthday.

Her gaze locked with the detective's ice blue stare. "I can give you more than enough to put all of them away for a very long time. But . . ."

"But what?" Denali interrupted and took a sip from her coffee cup, her plum lipstick leaving a perfect stamp of her bottom lip.

"But what about her safety?" Jared Cameron, Isabella's lawyer, finally piped up. He'd gone over every detail with Isabella prior to this meeting. They already knew that the state was growing impatient. This rabbit-up-the-sleeve Isabella had as a last resort could prove to be her get-out-of-jail-free card or she could end up dead in a ditch. Literally. To describe the situation as delicate was putting it mildly.

The detective cocked her head. "Her safety shouldn't really be an issue. Whitlock is the biggest fish out of the bunch. He isn't JFK and you're hardly Marilyn Monroe. Once they're jailed, it is what it is." Her flippant tone accompanied a shrug. "They can't hurt you any further."

Isabella took a deep breath and nodded at her lawyer.

"Mrs. Cullen is willing to work with the prosecutor, but only if she can disappear almost immediately."

"How about you tell me what you think is so crucial it would warrant WitSec before I guarantee anything." The sarcasm oozed from every one of Denali's words.

"It's not just the politicians I have evidence on. Yeah, you'll be able to get them for their fraud, bribery and blackmail." Isabella cleared her throat, ". . . but I can get you something bigger."

"Such as . . ."

"The D'Emilia crime family," Cameron jumped in again.

Detective Denali shifted in her seat. Isabella could just imagine the dollar signs from promotions and job opportunities that suddenly swirled in the officer's mind for nabbing members of the mafia. "I'm listening."

"Gimble's daughter is engaged to Gianni D'Emilia's son. The family bought the happy couple three storefronts across the state for their recently-founded bakery business."

"That's not against the law. Unless you're about to tell me you have proof that those businesses are a legit front for the family's alleged money laundering and drug trafficking. Now_ that_ would be a crime . . . several, in fact."

Isabella simply nodded once.

"And what proof do you have?"

"Recordings," Isabella started again, "many of them. Audio, video, paperwork . . . I always made sure I looked out for number one. I was very thorough and extremely good at my job, so much so that these men never suspected a thing. Because, yeah, the pussy they were getting was _definitely _that fucking good."

Detective Denali sat back in her chair, her fingernails tapping a staccato beat on the table. "My team and I will take a look at what you have. I can't guarantee you anything just yet, but you're safe enough here until the state makes a decision about how to proceed with your charges."

Isabella tossed her phone at Denali, the latest anonymous text message visible. "Safe enough might not cut it anymore."

* * *

**A/N: Big love to GREEDy Team Cabana for their help along the way: Lay, Hoodie, Born, Cejsmom and Momo. And a huge thank you to my readers who came back to see what's in store for these characters. Next update is Wednesday!**

**xo, Jen**


	9. Chapter 9

**$GREED$**

If there were a way to go back in time, Edward would instantly transport himself to the day Felix offered to take him to get his driver's license. He studied the book from cover to cover eight years ago, memorizing every code for license restrictions. He knew every right-of-way rule, and he could define every yellow warning sign with the quickest glance . . . but he never intended to leave the house on his own, so why bother with a license at all?

Big mistake.

Waiting for Felix to get back from Abilene, he went out of his mind. After the harrowing phone call he'd received, learning of some prank calls and the anonymous threat made to Isabella, he was desperate to put his eyes on her again. Even if she wanted nothing to do with him at the moment, he promised himself he'd be the one to help her if and when she finally gave him an inch.

Somehow, Felix convinced Isabella that he should stay with her until the prosecutors reviewed the evidence she'd turned over to the agents. Apparently, whatever it was that she had in her arsenal created enough of a stir that they told her she'd be transferred to a safe house the following morning. Edward had no idea what the next step was— Felix didn't want to discuss it over the phone. However, Felix mentioned he felt a little better once he saw two guards placed outside her hotel room door. He left only after Isabella promised him she'd keep him apprised of her next move.

Edward spent the next few hours trying to distract himself with work emails chock full of proposals from the different teams within Cullen Oil. He hadn't yet decided if he wanted to change the name of the company. The guilt that lingered heavy on his conscience pressured him to keep the name because, at the end of the day, Isabella was still a Cullen. She married the man willingly; he must've had some redeeming qualities. For as much as Edward knew of Isabella and her actions over the years – courtesy of the private investigator he had on payroll— all of that heartburn-inducing knowledge still hadn't given him the insight into the reasons behind them. Edward hoped that someday he'd understand the motivation behind all the choices she made.

The keypad beeping indicated Felix was on his way in. It helped Edward breathe easier, knowing he was at the cusp of getting the entire story in detail from his friend.

"Pack your bags, we need to leave immediately."

Edward froze. Felix's calm and collected appearance wasn't the cause for alarm; it never was. Felix didn't do irrational and erratic; that was Edward's modus operandi. His words, however, sent a chill down Edward's spine.

"What?" He jumped up, ripping his hands through his hair. "I—I don't _have_ any bags!" His gaze darted wildly around the room. "I've never left! Wha—"

"I'll bring some up. Grab some clothes and pull yourself together." Felix pointed a commanding finger. "She needs us." He turned and headed back out the door, presumably to his apartment to pack.

The feeling of dread combined with Edward's nerves overwhelmed him; he collapsed into his chair, hanging his head between his knees.

"Oh, fuck. I'm gonna be sick." He felt like his body temperature just shot up ten degrees, his stomach suddenly a tangled mess ready to implode.

"Edward," Felix rushed back, pulling a chair up before sitting next to his distraught friend. "I know you aren't ready to leave your apartment again, and I know you usually need much more time to mentally prepare for being outside in the open air . . . but she_ needs_ you."

"Did she ask for me?" Edward gasped, fighting to regulate his breathing. "I mean, I want to be there for her, you know I do, but shit— did she specifically ask for me? Last I checked she couldn't stand the sight of me!"

"She asked for us."

Edward wasn't convinced. "Are you lying?"

"Not entirely."

Edward shook his head. "She's not ready . . . _I'm_ not ready, Felix. I need to give her more time before I force myself on her, right?"

Felix got up, grabbed the remote and pushed a few buttons. Edward's entertainment unit came to life. The ordinary bookshelves slid to a new position as the wide screen appeared, the local twelve o'clock news already in progress.

"Right?" Edward questioned again.

Felix gestured to the television. "You tell me."

The blonde journalist was already mid-report.

"…**news has learned today that Gianni D'Emilia, son of accused crime boss Giuseppe D'Emilia, has been brought in for questioning in connection with the political scandal involving Congressman Andrew Gimble and Senator Jasper Whitlock that rocked the capital of Texas all the way to Washington D.C. Viewers may remember that allegations have been hurled at not only these two legislators but also at the mayor of Dallas, Jackson Travis, and our own Governor McAfee. Authorities were tipped off to alleged illegal activity including bribery, blackmail and other charges along with suspected prostitution involving a young female staffer in Senator Whitlock's employ. Action News will continue to bring you the latest developments in this breaking story."**

Felix's stare met Edward's widened eyes. "What's she done now? I never got reports that she was with D'Emilia! So that's who's been calling her and hanging up? That's who sent her the text message?" His stomach continued to roll.

Felix shook his head, shutting down the television. "All your P.I. ever gave you was where Isabella went and who he saw entering or leaving a building. He might not've known who was already inside, Edward." He swallowed tightly, whispering, "There's a very good chance the D'Emilia family is behind the text messages."

"Messages? _Plural_? You only told me about one!" Edward sprinted to his bedroom and yanked several pairs of pants and shirts from hangers.

"That's what I needed to tell you." Felix's voice got louder as he approached Edward's closet. "While I was driving home, just in the last hour, she called me to say she got another message. Only this time the text also included a fucking picture of the hotel she's staying in. She forwarded me a copy."

Felix held out his phone as Edward's eyes scanned the screen and picture.

_You were given fair warning, Mrs. Cullen. It's a shame that you chose this road. We'll be seeing you shortly._

**$GREED$**

The two men posted outside Isabella's door nodded as Felix and Edward approached. The taller one spoke up. "She's expecting you, Mr. Daniels. But I'm not sure about—"

The door opened and though he couldn't see her, Isabella's soft voice was a salve to Edward's rattled psyche. "It's fine, Matt, thanks."

Felix stepped forward first, before Edward passed through the entryway to join Bella further in the room where she'd retreated. Edward noticed all the lights were off and only the sheer curtain covered the window. A small part of him hoped she did it for his sake but he didn't bother to ask. He watched her pull out a cigarette and light it while Felix secured the locks on the door. Edward, whose stomach was in his throat, only stared at her, unable to find the right words or where to begin.

"When did you start smoking?" It was all he could come up with.

She shook her head, tossing her lighter on the desk. "When my life turned to utter shit." Edward watched her take another drag before she flicked a few ashes in the tray. Her discomfort— maybe even anger—simmered just below the surface of her flawless skin. "I'm surprised your detective didn't see me purchase them over the last several weeks and report back like a good little minion."

"I don't—" He cut himself off, knowing he deserved that jab. "He only told me where you were staying now. He hasn't worked for me consistently for a while."

Her eyebrows rose. "You mean ever since I was arrested?"

Edward nodded before his gaze fell to the floor.

"Poor, poor Edward." Her sarcasm dripped. "You must've been _so_ bored for the last month. Can't live vicariously through me, imagining what life is like outside your four walls." Her hard stare pierced him. "I'm getting all misty just thinking about it."

"Bella . . . I—"

"It's IS-A-BEL-LA, Edward, and fuck you."

Edward snapped his mouth shut, turning his head toward Felix who approached her. "Cool it, Isabella. Your bitchy attitude can wait." Felix pulled a chair up to the couch she was sitting on. "What's the latest?"

Smoke flowed from her lips before she rested the cigarette on the ashtray. "Denali says they're moving me tonight. I don't know where . . . and I can't tell anyone. Not you, not my mom."

"For how long?" Edward felt flushed, the thought of her essentially disappearing for who-knows-how long sickening him further.

"Until the deposition, maybe even the trial, I guess. Now that I turned over all that evidence, every one of them is probably going up the river."

"And the D'Emilias?"

She shrugged, extinguishing the last of her butt. "I have no idea. I just torpedoed four major political careers, to say nothing of all the staffers who worked for them. Then I managed to tie some of it to a highly sought-after crime family?" She snorted, shaking her head. "I'll be lucky if I see my next birthday."

"Don't _say_ shit like that," Edward boomed and then tried to compose himself again. "_Please_." He was in agony hearing her flippant attitude when her life truly could be on the line.

She huffed. "It's true though, right? How much of a life am I going to have after all this plays out?" She leapt up and stormed toward the window. "I'm gonna have the fucking mafia after me, Edward!"

He tore his hands through his hair muttering, "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

"Why the hell are _you_ sorry? You just screwed me out of money. The rest I did all on my own. I pissed off the wrong guy because I wouldn't fuck him." She guffawed. "The irony, right? The one guy I didn't sleep with is the one who derailed this crazy train."

"The other one who's been in the news? That Peter guy?"

She nodded, swiping her finger under her eye. "Doesn't really matter anymore."

"I need Chinese," Felix announced out of the blue. "Anybody else?"

Edward shook his head, the faintest grin appearing. "Subtle."

"Thanks," Isabella whispered, also smiling while reaching for a tissue. "Cashew chicken for me."

Felix nodded. "You got it. Your usual, Edward?"

"Yeah." Edward got up and followed Felix to the door. "Thanks for giving us some time on our own," Edward murmured to his friend.

Felix jerked his chin toward his shoulder. "At least she didn't stab you in the eye or anything. I figured since you survived the first few minutes, you both will make it till I get back within the hour."

"Thanks again."

With a dip of his chin and a wish of good luck, Felix walked out the door.

Edward took a deep breath; his anxiety had reached new heights today. Too bad he couldn't squeeze in a last-minute session with Dr. Banner before he left Austin. He'd pop a Xanax if he didn't need to keep his wits about him. He turned to face Isabella, who was sitting on the sofa with her head tipped back, staring at the ceiling.

"So, uh . . . cashew chicken is still your favorite?" He reached the couch and pointed down. "May I?"

She nodded, her eyes holding none of the bitterness she'd greeted him with earlier. "It's not like it's been a dozen years and my tastes have changed."

"I know," he sighed. "But it feels like it."

"Yeah . . . I guess it does."

Somehow he dug deep and found his nerve. "Tell me what to do Be—Isabella. I can't—" he rubbed his hands over his face, his fingers circling his eyes. "Can't stand the thought that you despise me."

After about ten seconds of silence she shook her head. "I don't think I could ever despise you, Edward."

A mild sense of relief washed over him, but he couldn't leave well enough alone. "Buuuut . . ."

Isabella shrugged, her sad smile a window for Edward to peek into her damaged heart. "But what do you want?" She cleared her throat of emotion. "Why are you even bothering with me anymore? Didn't we hurt each other enough?"

"I was jealous," he blurted. The truth felt freeing. "It gutted me that I couldn't have you all to myself."

"You had me more than anybody else did, if that makes you feel any better."

"Somehow I doubt that." Edward flinched after hearing his words. "I— I didn't mean it like . . ."

She sucked in her cheeks. "Hey, if the thong fits, right?"

"Isabella, please. You know what I meant."

"Yeah, and you know what I meant, too. You're a smart guy, Edward." She tapped her temple. "Think I consistently spent one weekend a month with _any_ other guy on the planet, for the two years since we graduated, without walking away with twenty grand? I _wanted_ to be with you. We were friends . . . best friends. And don't forget, you were the one who ultimately kicked me out that morning. I know I said I was leaving, but you handing me that cash pretty much sealed our fate."

"Why did it always have to be about the money?" His temper flared. "I have more money than you could ever possibly need! I came clean and told you how I felt about you that night. Didn't that mean anything at all?"

"Edward? What do you want me to say? I'm a whore!" she shouted. "Was a whore, whatever. Yeah, I'm smart too, but I used everything I had and that included spreading my legs. It got the job done. I made a helluva lot of money and things were great."

He raised his eyebrows. "Really?"

She reached for another cigarette. "Well, I was happy. But then it all unraveled. Jasper left me at the first sign of trouble."

Edward couldn't stop himself. "But even without all of that . . . you really think he was going to leave his family and start a life with you? In D.C.? That you two would ride your political red carpets all the way to the west wing?"

She sucked in and smiled facetiously. "Well, I guess we'll never know."

The air conditioning unit kicked in with a whir, breaking the awkward silence.

Edward closed his eyes, sighing. His snarky comebacks were poisonous. This wasn't the direction he meant to take. "I just want to know how I can fix this. I can give you your company back. I don't even want the thing." That wasn't exactly true. He was a businessman and it was a smart investment, but he wanted her more, and that was his bottom line.

She laughed out loud. "Umm, thanks for the generous offer, but I can't do shit with a company if I'm about to go underground. Even after the deposition, I'll owe all my community service time."

He listened intently, oddly excited that she was offering information instead of having to pull it from her. "Is that what the prosecution is offering?"

"Yeah. I posted the bail almost immediately, so it's just time already served, three hundred hours of community service and probation."

"Wow."

She lifted one shoulder. "Better than spending it in jail, I guess." Silence fell again before she turned to him. "And I never meant to hurt you. You were my best friend, you knew me better than anyone on the planet."

"Exactly," he implored. "So why was it so difficult for you to just open your eyes and see what was right in front of you?"

"Because you were hidden. Yeah, you might've been there for me, but I couldn't see me living in the shadows like you. I was meant to be out and about." She threw her hands up. "That's who I am. I wanted to be seen. I wanted to be the center of attention."

Edward nodded, resigned. "Well, I guess you got your wish. You headlined every news report for two weeks straight, and I'm sure you'll be right back out there again once all this shit goes to trial." He folded his hands, resting his head on his fist. "I need to shut up. I'm saying everything wrong. I don't want to hurt your feelings like this."

"There's not much more that can be done to me, Edward." Her voice was strained. "I just don't know what you want me to say. I know I hurt you. And I hate that it happened. But at the time, my focus was on something else . . . a bigger prize. I can't change what I was striving toward at the time. I can apologize, but I can't change it."

"I hate that I wasn't enough for you. I know I lead a strange life by others' standards. But . . . I tried. However short I fell, I did try a bit for you."

He watched her dab at her eyes with her knuckle. He didn't mean to make her cry. This was such an emotional upheaval. He needed to splash some water on his face to try to calm down a bit.

When he got to the bathroom door, she called out. "Did you really mean what you said at Cullen Oil that day?"

He stepped back closer to her. "Regarding what?"

Her eyes met his. "The lamp . . . my light, I mean. You said you hadn't turned it off since I left." She cleared her throat. "Were you serious?"

He nodded, running his hand on the back of his neck. "It was— it was all I had left of you. The way that I sent you away that morning . . . it was like I punctured a lung when I walked away from you, and I've been doing everything I can to breathe again." He shook his head, thinking of how ridiculous he must've sounded to this woman. "Keeping that lamp on was the only way I could keep our connection. Yeah, I got mad and sad and vengeful and lonely every time I thought about you . . . about us. But I needed _something_ of you . . . anything. And that was it."

He watched her absorb everything he said, and he hoped she kept an open mind while listening. Edward knew there was no way to expect that she'd wrap her arms around him in a hug, absolving him of all the wrongs he did to her. But the fact that she listened right now seemed to be enough.

"I'm sorry I couldn't be the girl you needed, Edward."

"And I'm sorry I couldn't be the guy to sweep in and save the day. I know I'm not what you ever pictured at your side. I realize I projected all of this onto you, and it wasn't fair. I've just . . . well, I've always cared. Since the first day you showed up in my dark hallway, you started to bring me out of my corner of solitude."

"And look at you now," she said through a giggle. Inside he was cheering for her shift toward levity. "An impromptu car ride from Austin to Abilene. How are you feeling?"

"Like I could vomit at any given moment." He rolled his eyes at himself. "But I'll make it. I needed to be here for you." He inhaled sharply, his eyes closing, grasping for his nerve again. "I'd do anything for you."

Isabella stared silently, the faintest smile gracing her lovely face. "Thanks," she whispered. "I know my manners are piss poor right now. But you being here does help. And thank you for sending Felix to stalk me. If it weren't for his persistence, I don't know where we'd be."

Edward chuckled. "He's the best guy around. I don't think either one of us would've survived these last few years without him."

"You're definitely right about that."

Edward walked into the bathroom, feeling a little more solid about the microscopic truce he and Isabella had forged. It was a start.

Felix came back to the room a while later with their dinner. The three of them kept the conversation to a minimum; light and playful chatter seemed superfluous considering the circumstances of the moment.

"So why did—" Isabella was interrupted by a loud knock at her door.

"It's Detective Denali, Mrs. Cullen." After walking through the doorway, the detective's eyes zeroed in on Edward and Felix. "It's time to go. We need to transfer you within the hour." She turned toward the men. "And you are?"

Edward stood as Felix crossed the room to shake her hand. "Felix Daniels. This is my friend, Edward Masen."

Denali turned toward Isabella. "And who are they to you?"

Both men looked at Isabella, wondering what her answer might be. The choices seemed colorful to say the least. Former study partner, best friend and one-time lover? Escort-gig driver? Company-stealing life ruiner?

"They're ummm . . ." She looked at them and sighed before turning back to the detective. "They're pretty much the only family I've got."

* * *

**A/N: Much love to the GREEDy Team Cabana: Hoodie, Lay, Born, Cejsmom and Momo. My crew, my posse . . . we should get leather jackets . . . or something. Anyway, heaps of thanks and love to my readers and especially those who take the time to leave me their thoughts. I wouldn't be able to do it without your support! **

**Thanks for reading . . . see you Sunday!**

**xo, Jen**


	10. Chapter 10

**_little time jump . . ._**

* * *

**$GREED$**

"Ungh, that feels good." Felix's head fell forward, while his girlfriend kneaded a vicious knot between his shoulder blades. "We need to get away from here. Edward's depressing the hell out of me."

Claudia's petite body shifted behind him on the bed. "Come on, lie down," she purred, tickling the nape of his neck. "My man needs some attention."

He groaned, partly in frustration that the massaging stopped for the moment, but also because these sessions always led to a much more satisfying way of working out his stressors. "I'll tell you what kind of attention I could use." Just before flopping on his chest, Felix threw her a wink, loving her responding giggle. He hummed as she straddled his broad back and got to work on his lower lats. The amount of strength this half-pint of a girl had in her astounded him. "Seriously though," he grunted when she found a particularly sore area, "let me take you to Grand Cayman. Ever been?"

"Nope." Her voice was a bit strained while she concentrated her efforts on his lower spine. "When are you whisking me away?"

"Soon. How quickly can you get off?"

"When you're at the helm? It usually takes less than two minutes." He could hear the smirk in her tone.

"Feisty." Felix bucked his ass, tossing her off his back and onto the bed. He moved to hover over her, enjoying the sight of her full tits jiggling beneath her tank top in time with her laughter. "Two minutes, huh?"

She nodded with a wide smile. "And on the eighth day, the Lord created your tongue."

Snarling, he dove into her neck to lick and suck while Claudia moaned in his ear. He settled between her spreading legs, grinding his pelvis into hers. She turned her face toward his, and their tongues tangled in a heated kiss until they were close to breathless. It was never like this with anyone else Felix had been with. He knew he'd fallen in love with Claudia weeks after they first started dating. However, it took Isabella vanishing into witness protection two months ago, coupled with Edward's despondence and current state of depression to light the fire under his ass to declare his feelings out loud. He didn't want to let any more time go by. Life was too short, and the world too miserable to not enjoy the good when it stared you in the face.

His girl's needy sighs brought his focus back. He loved when she ran her fingers roughly through his hair and over his shoulders. His hardened dick sought out the warmth between her legs, causing her to gasp.

"Please!"

Felix quirked his brow and got up on his knees. "Lose the shirt," he commanded while he yanked her shorts and panties off in one tug. She wriggled out of her tank top and bra just before he engulfed her nipple, pink and pert, in his mouth. He was ravenous; they hadn't seen each other in several days. His fingers traced the curves of her body, creating goosebumps in their wake. He took enormous pleasure in watching her writhe underneath him. Dragging his knuckle up and down her slit, she whimpered for him to end the beautiful torture.

"You're so wet, Cee." His voice was a gruff whisper. He dusted his nose down her jaw, nipping along the way. "You ready for me?"

"Mmhmmm," she sighed. "Now." Worming her hand into the front of his slacks, she palmed his erection and he hissed. "C'mon, baby."

When he slipped his finger inside, her eyes rolled back as she fumbled with his button and zipper. His cock sprang free and she tore his pants and boxers down his thighs. He took over wrestling them off his legs. Once he was fully naked, he leaned down over her, grasping his dick and stroking it a few times. "Goddamn . . . look at you."

She waved her arms, growing impatient. "Enough with the looking already!" He loved when her Italian temper took over, even her Brooklyn accent would become more pronounced.

Chuckling, Felix boxed her head in between his upper arms. He pushed inside, swiveling his hips with each thrust. He groaned when she danced her tongue up his neck. Trailing his hand over her breast and down her side, he grabbed her knee and hooked it through his arm. The change in position seemed to squeeze him more, and he pistoned his hips before locking his gaze on hers.

"Dannazione, sei fantastico!"

"C'mere," he grunted and pulled her body up with his. He set back on his legs to enjoy her bouncing on his lap. "That's it, baby." He plucked and pinched her nipples. Her whimper had him hoping she was getting close. It was all the invitation he needed. He moved his hand between their heaving chests and strummed her clit while he sucked on her neck.

Several seconds later, the slapping of her ass on his thighs stilled when she reached her high, but it didn't stop his ministrations. Claudia whined that it was too much, so he leaned her back on the bed but then quickly flipped her over onto her stomach and reentered her.

"Ohhhhh, Gesù, Giuseppe e Maria!" she cried out while Felix continued to pound, his forehead planted on her shoulder as his orgasm approached and took over. He pumped lazily a few more times and then collapsed on her, causing her to squeal. She always told him she loved to feel his weight on her, but he never stayed for too long. She only weighed half of what he did.

"Holy fuck." He panted for a moment before he fell to the side, curling his body around his giggling girlfriend. "What's so funny?"

"I was just about to say," she rasped, still trying to catch her breath, "that I'll go anywhere you want me to if you promise we can do that a few times while we're there."

"A few? You'll be lucky if I let you get dressed!" he chuckled and reached for his vibrating cell. "I'm not kidding, babe . . . we're going. Call your boss at the spa. Edward won't care if I escape for a week. I never take any time off."

She turned over in his arms and started fiddling with the chain and pendant around his neck. It was an Italian horn, a gift she'd given him on Saint Joseph's Day in March. They hadn't been together that long, but she told him that since he'd overwhelmed her with gifts on her birthday at the end of February, she wanted to do something special for him . . . and apparently giving him a gift on the Feast of Saint Joseph wasn't unheard of in her family. Felix's family was Italian, but his grandparents were born in America, so their traditions had faded a bit over time. Claudia's parents were born in Italy and came to America as teenagers. She grew up speaking only Italian in her home, but of course she learned English in school. Her parents owned an Italian restaurant in South Congress and fawned all over Felix whenever she brought him by. Felix hadn't gotten a chance to take Claudia to visit his family yet, though. They were all up in Boston, and he knew he probably wouldn't get home until Thanksgiving or even Christmas. His connection and responsibilities to Edward were too important. He loved his family, of course, but he would do just about anything for Edward. Felix reached out to him when they were only fifteen years old, and he'd been Edward's best friend and brother ever since.

Felix sat up and grabbed the remote. Edward's text about Isabella being on the news had him intrigued.

"Everything okay?"

"I think so," he murmured in concentration before finding the channel and turning up the volume.

"What's going on?" Claudia got up on her knees behind Felix, who had moved to the foot of the bed in front of the television. She gasped when she saw Isabella on the screen. "There she is! Oh, my God, she looks so tiny," she whined. "She needs to eat."

Isabella, flanked by federal agents, wore a bulletproof vest. The sight made Felix shudder. He couldn't imagine what Edward was feeling right now. He and Claudia listened intently as the reporter spoke of Isabella Cullen, the material witness in the trials that had taken down several political careers as well as the upcoming trial of the reputed second-in-command of the D'Emilia family. The media kept replaying the same footage of her entering and then leaving the courthouse. Sunglasses covered her eyes, and she never even attempted to lift her head for the cameras.

As soon as the program went to commercial, Felix's phone rang. "Yeah."

"_She looked so small, even smaller than before. Do you think they're feeding her?"_

Felix shook his head. "Claudia just said the same thing."

"Hi Edward!" Claudia whispered behind Felix's head.

"She says hi." He nodded over his shoulder. "He says 'hi' back." She got up to walk to the bathroom, but not before he squeezed her ass.

"Anyway," Felix sighed. "You all right?"

"_No. But what can I do? There was a time I knew more about her than anyone else on the planet. Now I get spoon-fed the same garbage the whole world gets from CNN. I miss her. I'm sick, I'm so worried all the damn time. A bulletproof vest? A fucking bulletproof vest! Did you see that?"_

Felix cleared his throat. "I saw."

"_I just want this shit to be over. Of course once it's over, she'll probably disappear into witness protection, and I'll never see her again."_ Edward's voice broke at the end, making Felix feel awful, but what could he do? He'd always had the slightest hope that Isabella would slowly draw Edward out of the shadows, but he realized a while back that it was never meant to be.

Felix didn't know what to say, so he remained quiet. Claudia emerged from his bathroom in her silky robe, piquing his interest once again, but he didn't have the heart to end the call yet.

"_Well, I'll let you go. Enjoy your weekend."_

"Thanks. Hey, while I have you on the phone, do you mind if I take a week away next month?"

_"Not at all. I doubt that would be a problem. You taking Claudia with you?"_

He smiled and winked at her again. "Yeah. I was hoping to take her down to Grand Cayman. Wanna come?"

"_Funny guy."_

"How the fuck am I funny?" Felix knew the answer but shrugged anyway. "I'm always going to try, you know. I thought different scenery could help. You wouldn't have to go out anywhere. I'd make sure it was all set up for you. Just give yourself a different view instead of the same gray skyscrapers. Maybe looking at some blue Caribbean water would help. You should talk to the doc about it."

"_Nah, not for me. But thank you for trying. Go. Entertain Claudia."_

"Call me if you need me this weekend."

"_I will."_

Felix disconnected the call and scrubbed his face with his hands.

"How's he doing?" Claudia sat next to him, intertwining their fingers.

"He's wrecked." He shook his head. "I always fix everything for him, and I can't fix this. Makes me feel useless."

"Hey," she scolded, but brought his hand to her mouth and kissed his open palm. "You're the furthest thing from useless. It's a mess, and it sucks . . . but it's not your fault." She shrugged. "It's just going to take time."

Felix smiled wistfully and leaned in to kiss her. "I know. And thank you for being here, for being you." He stood and held her chin in his hand. "I love you."

She pecked his lips a few times. "Love you."

He walked to the master bath and turned on the shower before poking his head back out into his room. "Wanna join me?"

She nodded and dropped her robe as he opened the glass door for her, following her in. They allowed the water to drench them both while he turned to reach for the shampoo. Claudia wrapped her arms around his waist and rested her hands on his muscular chest, leaning her face on his back. "Can I cook Edward dinner next week? Will he let me come over?"

Felix rubbed the shampoo in his hands before turning and threading his fingers through his girlfriend's hair. "Yeah, I'm sure he'd love that. He enjoys having you over. And I think it would help him, too."

"You think?"

He hummed, agreeing. "I think you distract him enough with your talk of family and work. It might not seem like much, but he knows everything I do." He shrugged. "My stories aren't entertaining for him." More bubbles formed as he massaged her scalp. "When you're there, you give us —give him— a taste of the outside that he needs. It helps, trust me."

"I'd do anything for you . . . and probably anything for him. I hate the life he's been dealt." Claudia's eyes welled with tears. "So unfair. Maybe Doctor Banner will be able to work a miracle someday. At least, I hope."

He sought out her soft lips and kissed her gently. "I hope so, too."

**$GREED$**

Many weeks passed and nothing changed. Edward ran Cullen Oil and his other business ventures flawlessly, even if his employees never laid their eyes on him. Conference calls and email correspondence were a godsend. Felix drove up to Dallas once a week to deal with anything that needed to be taken care of in the office. Edward trusted him implicitly. Yes, Felix was Edward's driver, friend and personal assistant of sorts, but Felix had an MBA from the Acton School of Business, as well.

Nothing much changed regarding Isabella, from what he and Felix could tell. She was spotted by the media a few more times, always escorted by the police. Whatever happened inside those courtrooms was enough to force three of the four Texas politicians to resign their positions. The media had also been mentioning that members of Congress from other states were being implicated in the far-reaching government scandal. Senator Whitlock was the only one who continued to stand firm that he did nothing wrong.

Edward figured he had to be full of shit, because there was no way Isabella would lie about it. She never lied about anything. Brutal truth was more her speed, even when it hurt her or the person on the receiving end.

It was close to midnight when Edward stepped out of his shower and heard his cell ringing. He figured it was Felix with a few last minute reassurances. He and Claudia were slated to fly to Grand Cayman the following afternoon, and Felix seemed unnerved leaving Edward.

"Hello?"

"_Edward?"_

His eyes widened, his heart skipping a beat. "Isabella?" He heard her whimper, alarming him immediately. "How are you allowed to call? Are you all right?"

"_No,"_ she wailed. _"I'm not all right. Can you—" _her voice broke,_ "can you and Felix come to me?"_

"WHAT? Fuck!" He tore off his towel, grabbed some jeans and yanked a shirt off a hanger. "Where are you? What happened?"

"_Somebody found me."_ She hiccupped through a whisper. _"Two thugs, one whose voice I recognized, but the other I'm not sure . . . m—my__ guards are dead," _she stuttered._ "The agents killed one of the assholes but they both got hit. After the third agent went down, I hid in the back bedroom and then used his weapon to shoot the other guy who came after me. It hasn't even been five minutes."_ She blew out a hard breath. _"I used the phone I found on the agent to call you. It all happened so fast. I'm— I'm sorry I'm involving you . . . I just didn't know what to do."_

She continued to sniffle. His heart was pounding so hard, he thought it might snap a rib. "But are you even sure the intruders are dead? Hell, are you sure you're alone?"

"_I don't know!"_ her voice cracked. _"I hope so."_

"Jesus! What if there are other hitmen outside? I'm calling Felix with my other phone. STAY on the line with me!"

"_Okay,"_ she sobbed. Hearing the terror in her voice was just as bad as seeing her look so broken before she went into hiding. It had been almost three months since they'd said goodbye. Her now trembling voice made him want to tear his hair out.

His hands shook, he was so frantic. It was a miracle he hit the speed dial button accurately on the first attempt. The phone rang only once before Felix picked up. _"You okay?"_

"No!" Edward smacked his hand against the wall. "It's Isabella— they found her, Felix. They found her and she's fucking terrified. The agents protecting her were killed." Edward's desperation to save her overtook the fear of leaving his home. "We've—we've gotta go get her."

* * *

**A/N: Thank you as always to my wonderful GREEDy Team Cabana: Lay, Hoodie, Born, Cejsmom and Momo. This week, I'm adding to the list of thanks because CaraNo made me two incredible banners for this little tale. They're on my Facebook page and in the Cabanaboy's Playground group if you want to take a peek. **

**Also a big thank you to the Fic Sisters who pimped GREED in their most recent blogpost at International House of FanFic. My sinful sister, LayAtHomeMom, wrote up a GREEDy rockin' summary. Thank you all so, so much!**

**And of course, to all my fantastic readers and to those who take some time to review . . . you always make me swoon. I need you all like Hermitward needs the shadows. Much love to every one of you!**

**See you Wednesday and thanks for reading!**

**xo, Jen**


	11. Chapter 11

**$GREED$ **

"Did she specify which McDonald's?" Edward occupied the passenger seat, studying his surroundings. His knee bounced like there was a spring attached to his heel.

"There's just one, and it's on 183; it's like a main street. Colorado Street, actually."

"I can't believe she's been in Lockhart this entire time." Edward shook his head, disgusted, though he didn't exactly know why. "Fuckin' half hour away from us."

Felix tapped his thumbs on the steering wheel, frustrated. He wondered if the red light would ever turn a shade approximating green. "It's not like she was permitted to call us," he sighed with a shrug, "and she probably didn't even know where she was until tonight when she ran into town anyway."

Another two miles passed in tension-saturated silence until they spotted the oversized, glowing yellow M in the distance.

"There it is!"

"I see it; relax." Felix's voice remained calm as he pulled his sedan into a parking space close to the front door. It was quarter till one, and there was only one other vehicle in the lot. A split second after he had the gear shifted into park, Edward clawed around in the darkened car for the door handle. Felix's arm shot out to stop him. "And where the hell do you think you're going?"

"I can see her from here!" Edward threw his hands toward the window. Isabella was tucked in a corner table, her hair hanging in her face while wringing her hands. "She's pale as a damn ghost, I have to go see her!"

Cue Felix's wry grin. "And you're about to rush into a fast food joint–that's lit up like Mardis Gras—to save the day like her knight in shining armor? I'm sorry," he shook his head, "do you think it's in my job description to talk you out of a massive panic attack _and_ save Isabella from rogue mafia hit-men all in the same night? Because . . . fuck that; it's not."

Felix was right, but that only made Edward feel even more powerless to help Isabella through this unimaginable debacle. What kind of man was he? Did he truly think he was worthy of Isabella? He couldn't even function as a normal human being or friend, let alone someone who had declared his love for her all those months ago. He was a fool living in a fantasy world, and he knew it. Growling, he slammed his head back against the seat. "Just— just go get her, would you?"

Felix opened the car door but turned back again to address Edward. "And don't grill her and make her any more frazzled than she already is, okay? Let's just get her out of here and figure out what the next step is back at your place."

Edward nodded, his eyes closed. He focused on his breathing, knowing he was moments away from that anxiety attack Felix mentioned. On one hand, he felt thrilled that he would have Isabella in his home again. She'd be there; maybe she'd even sleep in the guest bedroom—her room—tonight, and she'd see the lamp still lit. It could be another small victory for them, like the truce they forged in Abilene three months ago before she got hidden away in the safe house for the duration of all the court proceedings. Of course, on the other hand, Edward had no idea what the future would hold. Was this just going to be a tease before his heart would be crushed again? Would they get in touch with the federal agents who would whisk Isabella away and make her disappear forever? There were too many variables and not enough answers . . . and Edward knew they were on borrowed time. After a few deep breaths, he moved to the back seat so that he could be of some comfort to her during the ride back to Austin . . . or maybe it was selfish on his part because he just needed to see and feel her close again after this madness.

The back door opened, and Isabella scrambled into the seat. He stiffened but studied her for a few seconds, watching her curl in on herself, her arms wrapped around her shoulders as she puffed out choppy breaths from her tear-stained cheeks. One look from Felix, and Edward knew they were thinking the same thing.

The irony of Edward remaining the calm one, attempting to ease Isabella and being the clear head in this scenario was not lost on him.

Edward reached out to touch her hand. "Hey," he whispered. Her fingers tightened around his in an instant—like a newborn's grasping reflex—with a combination of comfort and desperation. His heart hurt for her.

She looked up at him, scraping her tangled hair behind her ear. "Thank you." Isabella's broken voice, coupled with a stream of tears, prompted Edward to pull her into a hug. He was grateful in that moment that she didn't resist, but rather tucked her arms into his chest and buried her face in his neck. "I'm so—so scared."

Edward nodded and continued to rub her back while Felix sped off toward Austin. With any luck, they'd be back in his apartment before two and figure out where they would go from there.

**$GREED$**

"It's only a matter of time before the agents come to question us." Felix rubbed his fingers back and forth over his eyebrows. "I mean, we didn't give that female detective our cards or anything, but all she has to do is a little bit of research, and she'll be on our doorstep looking for answers."

"Did you get rid of the agent's phone Isabella used to call us?"

Felix nodded. "It's long gone. No worries."

Claudia placed two cups of coffee in front of Edward and Felix, who were seated at Edward's dining room table. It was quite early, just after seven in the morning. They allowed themselves to get a bit of rest after they returned from rescuing Isabella in the middle of the night. Felix went back to his apartment where Claudia had been waiting for him, and they managed to get a few hours of sleep. Edward, on the other hand, was running on empty. Isabella came back to Edward's apartment, and she followed him back to her old bedroom, not balking at all. He offered her a t-shirt and sweats after she showered, and she cocooned herself in the sheets and blankets, falling fast asleep. Edward found solace sitting in the corner chair at the foot of her bed, watching her breathing even out. Though dozens of questions ran through his mind, he couldn't help but thank whatever deity looked out for them that he was able to put his eyes on Isabella again. She was with him, safe . . . and he'd do whatever he could within his power to keep things that way.

"Morning." Isabella's voice sounded raspy and unsure as she approached the two men. "Have you been up long?"

Felix shook his head and Edward just offered a pensive smile, not wanting to make her feel any worse that he hadn't slept in over twenty-four hours.

"Oh! Good morning!" Claudia came around from the other side of the counter to introduce herself. Felix beat her to it as Isabella turned with a grin.

"Isabella, this is my girlfriend, Claudia Angiello."

Isabella reached out her hand to shake, but Claudia embraced her instead. Edward could see that Isabella was taken aback at first, although she seemed to relax her shoulders and welcome the hug before Claudia pulled away. "I'm thrilled to meet you. I'm sorry it's under such awful circumstances, though. I just want you to know I'm in your corner." She wrung her hands as Felix leaned in to kiss his girlfriend's temple. "Can—can I make you some breakfast?"

Isabella held her hand up. "Oh no, nothing right now. I'll just grab a cup of coffee."

"Sit," Claudia whispered with a wink. "Let me get it for you."

"Thank you." Isabella's smile appeared genuine. Edward wondered if she ever remembered what it was like to be taken care of._ He_ took care of her. He wanted to do it again, but he shook himself from his delusional thoughts and cleared his throat to finally speak up about the mess.

"Did you hear anything last night?" Edward asked as gently as possible. "Were there any threats from the shooters?" he fidgeted with his coffee cup, searching his mind for the right words, "or—perhaps did the agents tell you what to do while you were being attacked?"

She shook her head, leaning to the side as Claudia set a mug on the table for her. "The guys wore masks. One of the attackers alerted the other that there was a third agent. I think they were shocked to find that out, to be honest. It was ironic; the third guy had only arrived a day earlier." Isabella's facial expressions were the picture of bewilderment.

Felix and Edward exchanged a look of deeper concern just before Edward spoke up. "I wonder—"

"If somebody fed them information," Felix nodded, finishing Edward's thought. "I mean, yes, it's plausible the agents might've slipped up and were followed so that the shooters knew where you were, but if there's a dirty cop involved somewhere in the chain . . ." He trailed off, sighing and shaking his head. "We can't give you up. Even if we don't reach out and the detectives come here searching for you instead, how can we turn you back over to them? Clearly their protection is shit."

"The WitSec program is pretty solid from what I've gathered over the last few months," Edward added. "A breach like this is rare, at least that's what I found in my research." He turned toward Isabella, whose eyes had become glassy.

"You did research?"

If his sheepish look didn't give him away, his response did. "Those people were in charge of keeping you safe, Isabella. Just because our friendship fell apart, it didn't take away my concern for your safety." Her stare locked on his face until he became self-conscious and had to look away, but not before he murmured, "I couldn't stand not knowing—I just needed to know you were all right."

Felix cleared his throat, halting their tender moment. "I don't think you're safe with them. Someone pretty powerful is after you, and they found somebody who's willing to give you up for a price. I mean, shit! We don't even know if this is definitely the D'Emilias. You screwed over a hell of a lot of people in the last few months." Felix looked back and forth between Edward and Isabella. "This could be anybody who wants you to pay for what you did or silence you before you say anything else."

"Felix!" Claudia snapped, smacking her thigh. "You're scaring her more!" Claudia stomped to the bathroom and came back with a box of tissues.

"We don't want to scare you." Felix's voice was quiet but stern, and he planted his index finger on the table with every word he spoke. "But we need to make some hard and fast decisions. Right now. Where can you go?"

Isabella jutted her chin out. "Where can I go? Felix, I have no money! They froze all my funds here. I have thirteen dollars in my fucking pocket. Care to start chauffeuring me around again so I can turn some tricks to earn my dinner?"

Edward buried his face in his hands, sickened, hearing Isabella's momentary break from reality.

"That's not what I meant, and you know it."

"Well, what _did_ you mean?" She cocked her head. "You said it a few months ago; I've got nobody! My mother is a flake and a half, and even if I trusted her enough to keep her mouth shut, I'd go crazy staying with her for God knows how long!" Isabella huffed, folding her hands on the table and quieted her voice. "I cannot involve her. She'll get us both killed."

Felix chewed on the inside of his cheek. "Maybe we can take you with us to Grand Cayman today."

"We're still going?" Claudia questioned.

"I don't know what our other options are at the moment," Felix said, shrugging. "You'll come with us and we'll get you a room until we figure out a more permanent place for you."

"I don't think that's wise." Edward's interruption caused all of their gazes to fall on him. "They know she has accounts down there. That'll be one of the first places they look after they track down my apartment and her mom."

"Maybe just somewhere remote in the Midwest?" Claudia offered. "Or middle-of-nowhere Wyoming?"

"Unprotected . . ." Though it seemed like he'd questioned her, Felix was just mulling things over aloud.

"I think I should take her out of the country."

Every face whipped toward Edward again. Claudia's eyes widened, Isabella's jaw dropped, and Felix leaned forward across the table. "You." Felix's head dipped in disbelief. "You. Are going to take Isabella out of the country."

Edward nodded, allowing himself a glance at Isabella, who sat frozen and mute, her gaze ping-ponging between the two men.

"How the in the ever-loving fuck are you going to do that?" The bite in Felix's words resounded crystal clear. "Pardon me, ladies."

"In all honesty, I don't know, but what choice do we have?" Edward widened his arms. "I—I can do whatever I need to do for the company and other ventures the same way I've always done. My role has never been more than a voice on the phone or a dimly lit face on a computer screen, and I can do that anywhere in the world. You have a life here." He gestured to Claudia. "Your girlfriend is here. Your families are here. Yours is the face they see up at Cullen Oil. Having you relocate is illogical and unfair."

"But—"

"No!" Edward pointed at Isabella. "She can't be alone, Felix! I don't know how I'll do it, but I'll figure it out, right?" He started ticking off his fingers. "I made it to a lawyers' meeting in Dallas, a hotel room in Abilene and then Lockhart last night all in the span of four months or so. Fuck, I wanted to be the one to go into the McDonald's last night, but you stopped me. I was ready!" Edward pounded his fist on the table. "If it concerns her, I'll always be ready." He stiffened, regretting his audible confession. Granted, it was no surprise that he cared about Isabella, but to say it out loud in front of all of them was unprecedented. He shook it off and continued. "Who's to say I can't escort her out of the country . . . if she'll let me, that is."

They all sat in silence, staring at Edward. He was right; somehow, between his desire to help Isabella and the time he spent working with Dr. Banner, he'd stepped out of his shadowed doorway several times and come through those experiences unscathed.

"Besides," he scoffed, "a plane is just like an extra-large car, right? Except in the air . . . and possibly over water . . . with artificial light everywhere." The corners of his mouth turned up in his crooked smile, and they all chuckled. "It'll be a cakewalk."

Isabella was the first to stop giggling, though it had been a welcomed moment of levity. "But where?"

"Italy." Claudia's voice was an excited whisper. "My mother's cousin owns a few villas all over the country. I could call her and find out if anything is vacant right now."

Felix shrugged. "It's a thought. Call her and see if it could work." He ran his fingers through his hair before resting his chin on his clasped fists. He looked back at Claudia. "I think it's important that you and I leave as soon as possible for Grand Cayman, though. If the Feds come snooping, we need to make it look like things are business as usual around here."

They all nodded before Claudia and Felix excused themselves to make some calls to her family in Italy. Edward was left at the table, watching Isabella walk toward the guest room. He wondered if his suggestion disgusted her. He never asked her how she'd feel about being in his presence around the clock. So much had gone on between the two of them: so much hurt, so much anger, too much mudslinging while so many other words were left unsaid. Yes, they were able to find civil ground back in Abilene before she disappeared, but they needed to get to the heart of all that went wrong between them, and discover what was right, if it ever really existed.

He followed her into the guest room and found her sitting on the bed, staring out at the Austin skyline. Another scorcher was predicted; temperatures in the triple digits and not a cloud in the sky. Not that Edward knew what a scorcher truly felt like. He was always surrounded by air conditioning, always protected from the elements that affected ordinary people. He was about to discover all of the elements first hand, though. He leaned against the doorframe, hands in his pockets.

"I guess I should've asked you in private if you'd want to go away with me." He furrowed his brows. "I didn't give you much of a choice out there."

She studied him before speaking. "I still don't understand why you'd ever want to help me. After everything that's transpired, Edward . . . stepping out of your comfort zone, leaving everything you've ever known, risking your emotional, maybe even physical health?" She winced, looking back out the window. "I just don't get it. All that risk? Where's the reward? I don't think it's worth the cost to you. You don't deserve this."

He could see a tear rolling down her cheek before she dashed it away. Swallowing the lump in his throat, he walked over to the bed and sat down next to her.

"There will be a lot of risk . . . for both of us. But, aside from Felix, you're the only person I've ever cared about, who's ever cared about me. I'd do anything for him, and I've already told you that I'd do anything for you." He turned, looking out the window. "I know you don't think you're worth it, and that it's all loss and no gain at all on my part, but I just don't see it that way. And what about me? If we go through with this crazy idea, you'll be stuck with a reject that lives in the shadows." He pinched his lips, shaking his head. "No, I don't think this will be easy or fun, but it'll definitely be worth it." He grabbed her hand, and she threaded her fingers through his. "Knowing you're safe is a reward. Your life," he tightened his grip, "that's the reward."

* * *

**A/N: Crazy love and thanks to my GREEDy team: Lay, Hoodie, Born, Cejsmom and Momo. Couldn't treasure you more. Thank you to all my readers and those sending me reviews. So glad you're all enjoying this bumpy ride! See you Sunday!**

**xo, Jen**


	12. Chapter 12

**$GREED$**

Originally, Felix had booked a luxury suite at an all-inclusive resort for Claudia and himself, but once Isabella got thrown into the mix, he canceled their reservations and found a secluded rental far away from crowds with curious eyes. Before they all took off, Edward handed Claudia his credit card, and she shopped around Austin that afternoon to find the beginnings of a new wardrobe for Isabella. Everything seemed to fall into place rather quickly. Later that evening, Felix and Claudia dragged a resistant Isabella to a seaside cottage in Grand Cayman via a Cullen Oil jet. Slipping out of the country and back in again wasn't difficult because she never got rid of the fake passport and I.D. she used when she traveled for Jasper, brokering shady deals around the country and globe.

While the threesome left for the island, Edward stayed behind and kept his focus on all the local and national news reports. Oddly enough, not a word was mentioned about Isabella.

However, as they'd predicted, it took less than seventy-two hours before detectives came knocking on Felix's door. They left a card with the front desk manager at The Austonian, requesting that Felix get in touch with them as soon as possible. After the detectives left, the manager contacted Felix at once.

"_Hey. Just got a call from Webber at the front desk. Denali stopped by."_

Edward's eyes widened. "Really? I wonder why she didn't contact me. And wait, are you on your burner?"

"_I'm no rookie," _Felix scoffed._ "Yeah, it's a burner just like yours; relax. And Denali might not have anything identifying you at the scene." _

"But you introduced both of us to her when she came for Isabella."

"_She was too concerned with getting Isabella out of there unharmed that night. She probably forgot our names. I assume they only found me because they ran my plates from hotel parking security footage._"

Edward nodded, unnerved. "How is she?"

"_Pissed, for the most part. Claudia is running interference,"_ Felix chuckled. _"Isabella kicked us out last night because we've been hovering. I've only left the cottage once to pick up groceries when we arrived."_

"Not much of a vacation."

"_Claudia understands. She's coaxed Isabella out onto the deck to try to enjoy the sun for the last two days. Right before I called, Isabella demanded I take Claudia out for dinner and to do some tourist shit tonight."_

Edward huffed, his smile appearing for the first time since they left. "She doesn't take orders very well . . . never has."

"_Yeah, well. She'll have to get over that and fast. Anything on the news?"_

"Not a word. Maybe her testimony isn't necessary right now depending where they are in the process? The media would be all over her like usual if she were scheduled to appear in court."

"_Either that or WitSec doesn't want it to become public knowledge that she went missing or ended up dead at the hands of the mafia or whoever else might be after her. Assuming nobody survived the night in Lockhart except for Isabella, whoever is after her and the authorities would be in the dark."_

"Good point. Depending on who arrived at the scene first, the person who hired the shooters might think she either died, escaped or got relocated. And the authorities might think she was killed, kidnapped or got out, too." Edward shook his head, pondering how convoluted this entire situation was.

"_Well, heaps of confusion will only work in Isabella's favor. The more questions on where she is or even whether she survived make it easier for the both of you to get out undetected."_

"Have you heard anything from Italy?"

"_Just heard back this morning. Claudia said her cousin's got two places to choose from. I'll send you the info so you can check it out."_

Edward nodded. "Thanks. So I guess I'll see you in a couple days."

"_Yup. And I'm already working on your paperwork."_

"Thanks. For everything. As always." Edward breathed a sigh of relief. This outlandish scenario might actually work.

"_It's what I do. Whatever you need." _The confidence in Felix's voice helped bolster Edward.

"See you Friday."

Edward tossed the phone on the coffee table and collapsed into his couch, emotionally exhausted. So many scenarios rushed through his mind; he couldn't make heads or tails of them. One thing, however, was for certain: if anybody had eyes or ears on the situation in Lockhart that night and knew Isabella got out alive, then she had a mark on her back and would never be truly safe.

This course of action, however contrived, had to succeed.

**$GREED$**

A week later, Edward sat at his dining room table sifting through paperwork, while Felix went over the information Edward needed him to present at Cullen Oil the next day.

"How much did you pay for all of this?" Edward questioned Felix as he studied his Italian passport.

"You don't want to know."

Edward rolled his eyes and compared his new credentials with Isabella's. As of this weekend they would officially be known as _Ernesto_ and _Bianca Carbone_, longtime residents of Sorrento, Italy. It made Edward chuckle that, of course, it required a counterfeit certificate with a fake marriage to a fake name to have him linked to Isabella. That was the closest he'd ever get to an actual marriage with her. His thoughts had become so pitiful, that they no longer sounded funny . . . just incredibly pathetic.

Felix hired an old friend from boarding school to work on the Edward and Isabella's new identities. Even though Edward kept to himself during his five years at Eton, Felix maintained several friendships long after they left Berkshire. One of the housemates –Alistair Lincoln— was a complete tech wizard, able to hack into all sorts of systems throughout their boarding school experience. Years later and with who knows how many more shady ventures and transactions under his belt, Alistair became the right guy to help them with the fraudulent international documentation they'd need.

It had arrived by mail early this morning. Claudia reviewed all of the forms with them earlier in the afternoon. He and Isabella each had a _codice fiscale, _the equivalent of a social security number. Claudia explained that it worked basically like an insurance card. Then they had their _carta di_ _identita'_ issued by the Comune di Sorrento and finally a _patente_—a driver's license—issued by the Motorizzazione Civile in Salerno.

Though never one to break the law, Edward was thankful that Alistair could produce all of their documents. Just the thought of having to roam the streets of Naples and Sorrento to validate his Italian citizenship had his stomach seizing up in anxiety.

"When was the last time you checked in with Denali?"

Felix cleared his throat and grabbed a bottle of Patron. "Yesterday afternoon. I played my part." He shrugged. "Concerned friend, pissed that they don't have any leads. Willing to cooperate if I hear anything, etcetera. Same as last week."

"I hope they continue to believe your act. We're all juggling so many balls, this is turning into a three-ring circus."

Felix popped out the cork wedge. "It is what it is, brother," he replied, appearing resigned and gestured to the papers on the table. "So what do you think?"

"Well, everything looks authentic, but I'm not sure I'll get used to my new name."

Felix chuckled. "Suck it up, buttercup. I'm not taking any chances sending the two of you over there. It's smarter to make you Italian citizens rather than Americans visiting the country for an undetermined length of time." He shot back his tequila. "The authorities, the D'Emilias, Whitlock . . . any of them might be looking for Isabella Swan Cullen and maybe even Edward Masen, but Ernesto and Bianca Carbone won't be on their radar at all; that I can promise."

Furrowing his brow, Edward shook his head. "Never in a million years did I think I'd move from this place. I don't know how I'm going to function." His whisper sounded gruff as he scrubbed his hands over his face. "It seems like some fucked up alternate universe that has me and Isabella sharing a last name, a home . . . a life."

"Here." Felix slid another shot glass across the table. "Drink that."

"Pretty sure alcohol isn't going to solve this one." Edward tipped his head back anyway, wincing at the smooth burn of the tequila.

"Yeah, but it couldn't hurt." Felix followed Edward's first shot with another quick one for himself. "I'll be honest, Edward," he murmured, spinning the glass, "I'm having a really difficult time with you taking Isabella over there on your own."

"Don't tell me you're in love with her, too."

Felix snorted and coughed, his face contorting, trying to gulp another shot. "Thanks for that. Fucking tequila almost came out my damn nose. What's with you and the comic relief these days?"

Edward shook his head and shrugged. "My life is unrecognizable right now. Figured a personality switch might be in order."

"Well, take it one step at a time. You've always had a sense of humor; don't act like you've been a zombie your whole adult life . . . but I'm serious about you, leaving."

Edward got earnest and nodded, always respecting what Felix had to offer in dire situations.

"You're gonna have to keep it together. You rarely panicked in front of Isabella during all your times together over the years. I don't know if she's emotionally stable enough to survive living on the run and also helping keep you in check."

"I know." Edward sighed, fiddling with the staple at the top of one of the papers. "Dr. Banner gave me a decent number of pills to get me going just in case I completely freak out."

"What have you told him?"

"Just that I needed a change of pace and figured a vacation might help. He knows I've been feeling braver and have managed to leave the apartment a few times."

"He doesn't think it's insane that you're just up and leaving?"

"I haven't told him where I'm going. I didn't want him to wonder and go looking for me, which then might alert the wrong people."

Felix nodded. "Makes sense. Plus," he grabbed the tequila, "Claudia and I can talk to him somewhere down the road if he becomes more suspicious and starts questioning us."

Edward shoved his shot glass across the table. "I'll take another."

"So, we haven't gotten a real chance to talk about all of this," Felix said as he poured. "Between Claudia schooling you two on everything Italy and Isabella pounding the Rosetta Stone day and night, it's been crazy . . . and I'm worried." He passed the shot back to Edward. "Do you really think you're ready to do this? I mean, the house has a ton of windows and balconies. There's no air conditioning, so in the summer every one of those windows and doors would need to be open. The villa is right there on the road surrounded by other homes. How are you ever . . ." He trailed off, his eyes pinched in helpless frustration.

"I'm used to her, Felix. It's not like three years ago when I only could deal with you. I'm okay with her and maybe with a couple of strangers in a room at a time. If she decides to host a dinner party on a whim, that'll be a different story. I'll be in the bedroom twitching and puking."

Both men chuckled before silence descended again.

"We'll stay close to the house," Edward continued. "Claudia and I have already searched and found a grocery store around the corner from the villa. A pair of sunglasses and a wig will keep her incognito when necessary. We'll follow the news, and we know you'll keep us up to speed on any new local developments that don't make international headlines." Edward tossed his hands up. "What else can we do?"

"I just wish I could go with you guys. Help, y'know . . . do what I normally do. As of next week, I'm as good as unemployed."

"You can be as visible as you want up in Dallas. Hell, make yourself at home in that corner office on the top floor. I never planned to use it." Edward started to feel the effects of the tequila and he found himself smiling. "We'd love to have you with us over there, but we needed to grow up someday, I suppose."

Felix huffed and poured himself another. "Hey, if you'd suddenly found your wings and craved stepping out into the light, I would've supported you all the way. But this feels like you're being forced to fight or flight."

Edward thought on it for a few seconds. "I guess the flight is my fight. Staying here would get Isabella taken from us and possibly killed. And we can't let that happen. _I'm_ not letting that happen. Maybe this was always meant to be. Yeah, I'm helping her, but she'll also be helping me. That can't be all bad."

Felix leaned his elbow on the table, his head held up by his hand. "Has she talked to you about . . . well . . . the two of you?"

"No." Edward shook his head. "We haven't even broached that subject. I think the drive to stay safe has been at the forefront of both of our minds. Our status as former friends or enemies hasn't even made the top five list of things to talk about." Edward reached for the bottle again, but Felix pushed his hand away.

"You'll be sick as a dog. You've gotta stop, we both should."

Edward scratched his head and slumped forward on the table, his chin resting on his fist. "I guess once we're isolated we'll have all sorts of time to work through," – he waved his hand haphazardly— "whatever's between us, if anything."

"Just don't do anything too fast, and I do mean _anything_," Felix warned. "Get used to your new place. Take it slow, work on all the techniques the doc shared with you. I'm serious, Edward. One of the worst things that could happen is you flipping the fuck out and her rushing to get you medical attention. Then your cover is blown completely. All the authorities would have to do is check out medical reports, security cameras, match your faces to missing persons databases and we'd all be fucked."

"I know." Edward straightened up in his chair, hearing Claudia and Isabella approach. "In another world, this would be pretty damn romantic, I suppose. Buying a villa on the Sorrentine Peninsula, whisking away the only woman I've ever loved so we could live out our lives. Sounds like a damn soap opera, but in reality ours is more like the _Young and the Reckless_."

Felix snorted and slumped forward on the table in a drunken fit of laughter. Edward followed suit, engulfed in hysterics.

"Hey, what's so funny, boys?" Claudia questioned, sliding her hands over Felix's shoulders.

Neither of the men could get it together enough to speak, so Isabella and Claudia just smirked, shaking their heads.

It was safest for them all to keep laughing. The absurdity of an agoraphobic leaving the only darkened home he'd known his entire adult life to save his damsel in distress and sweep her out of the country sounded crazy enough. Isabella being a former high-end escort now wanted by the mafia, politicians and the authorities elevated the insanity to a whole new level. It was so beyond outrageous that alcohol and a sense of humor would be the only thing that might keep them all sane.

* * *

**A/N: Big thanks as always to Team _GREED_: Lay, Hood, Born, Cejsmom and Momo. Thanks to all of you who sent me birthday wishes on Friday. It's been a wonderfully snowy birthday weekend in my world. I was also honored to be featured in the Author Spotlight over at A Different Forest on Friday. I had a great time doing that interview; go check it out if you'd like! : ht tp / / www . adifferentforest Campfires / 30703 (just remove the spaces)**

**Loving all of your theories in the reviews! Keep them coming! Thanks for reading. **

**xo, Jen**


	13. Chapter 13

**$GREED$ **

"How you doing? You okay?"

"I'm fine, Felix," Edward huffed, rolling his eyes. "You've seen me panic before. I think we both know what that looks like. Pretty sure you'll be able to tell when things aren't right. Just . . . get some rest."

Felix nodded, squeezing Edward's shoulder before he stepped across the aisle to sit down with Claudia on the sofa. He'd questioned Edward every twenty minutes for the entire flight from Austin to New York and started again on the direct flight to Rome. Felix's hovering got on Edward's nerves even more than the mini-spotlight that shone down on Isabella and her college-ruled notebook. He wanted to go over and start a casual conversation with her. That is, if there _were_ such a thing in this bizarre entanglement in which they found themselves. He took a few deep breaths and stood, figuring an attempt at a chat couldn't hurt.

Felix's head snapped up, seeing Edward move from his seat. Edward raised his palm to reassure him that all was well. _Poor Felix,_ Edward mused, _he's going to be put on a steady regimen of blood pressure meds before this fiasco is over. _

The cabin of the Cullen Oil private jet had been darkened for Edward's sake, with the exception of the illuminated pathway, one muted wall light and Isabella's spotlight. It also helped that they were flying into the night, so the sky enveloping them had morphed from pale blue, to indigo, to inky black. Edward sat in the leather recliner and twisted it toward Isabella. She did a double-take, removing one of the earbuds from her ear.

"_Mi dispiace, non capisco l'Italiano_." Isabella beamed. "I'm sorry, I don't speak Italian, right?"

Edward's heart leapt when he saw her genuine smile for the first time in months. God, he missed her and what they used to have. He furrowed his brow, leaving those memories in the past, and cleared his throat. "_Mi dispiace, non **parlo** italiano_." He found it difficult to hide his grin. "_Mi pare che tu stia facendo progressi, però._"

"Well, now what the hell does that mean?" She smacked her hand on her notebook.

He chuckled. "First, I corrected you. If you wanted to say you don't speak Italian, then you needed to say, _'non parlo italiano_.' You said you didn't understand Italian."

"It would appear I'm telling the truth." Obviously frustrated, she yanked the other earbud from her ear. "What did you say after that though?"

"I told you that you were making good progress."

She sighed, her face souring. "Yeah, well . . . that remains to be seen. Not everyone can know how to speak all of the Romance languages fluently like some recluse I know." She tossed her notebook on the floor. "So, unless some _ragazza_ wants to listen to me recite my colors and the months of the year like the preschooler I sound like, I'm pretty much screwed."

Edward couldn't contain his snort at her self-deprecation. "Okay, so maybe you have the vocabulary of a four-year-old. You'll get there," he encouraged, attempting to rein in his laughter.

Isabella looked at her watch. "Uh-huh, and _we'll_ get there in a little over eight hours. You better hope they have a grocery delivery service, 'cause once Claudia and Felix leave us next week, we're sunk."

"Stop." He tried to calm her. "We're going to be fine. It might not always be pretty, but we'll figure it out. Where's all this coming from?"

"That's what you've been saying." Isabella shook her head, talking over him while she reclined her seat. "Personally, I think this has epic disaster written all over it . . . can't even believe I agreed to this fucking farce." Mumbling, she grabbed the blanket at her feet and curled up in the lounge chair, closing her eyes, dismissing Edward.

Any remaining feelings of glee from the start of their conversation disintegrated in that moment. Edward felt the ache in his chest with the same sting she aimed toward his ears.

He nodded, his gaze zipping around the cabin as he tried to rationalize all of his emotions. _Of course, this is how Isabella feels,_ he thought. She didn't need to say the rest out loud. He could just imagine what her mind must be screaming: _This is a joke, Edward. **You're** a joke, Edward. What the fuck, Edward?_

His stomach rolled while that heated, rushing sensation crawled up his back and tickled the hairline on his neck. If he didn't remove himself from the main cabin, he knew he would break down in front of all of them.

Edward stood and walked to the back of the jet toward the small bedroom. He wasn't sure if he'd be able to sleep, but he did know that the darkened isolation would help remedy his growing anxiety. He needed to stay there to avoid an embarrassing scene.

No lights, no people, no interaction . . . where he always felt safest. Where a reject like him fucking belonged.

It took very little for Isabella to undo all the progress Edward had made over the last few months. The feeling of hopelessness that he wrestled with for so long clawed at him.

"Edward?" Felix called out, but Edward didn't bother with a response. Instead, he slammed the bedroom door behind him and dashed for the small bathroom. He retched over the sink several times as he gripped the sides, desperate to hold onto his sanity.

Several deep breaths later, and after consistent knocking at the cabin's door, he splashed water on his face and went back to answer it.

"Are you all right? What's going on?"

Edward shook his head. "Just . . . I needed to be alone. Came back here to do it. I might lay down." He pointed his thumb back over his shoulder.

"Okay," Felix assured, stepping away. "Let me know if you need anything."

"I will. Thanks." Edward closed the door with a hint of remorse that he hadn't been honest with Felix. But then again, why bother? This was his problem. It always was and it always would be.

He's the freak who can't live life like a normal person. He's the freak who, instead of dating different girls through high school and college, managed to fall in love with the first female who spent any kind of significant time with him. All of his memories from his final year of college revolved around her. She understood his needs and his boundaries while making him feel close to normal instead of a coward, plagued by a social disease.

After graduation, and for the next two years, she took it upon herself to carve out weekends where she gave him her undivided attention. She made him a priority—how could he _not_ fall in love with her? Aside from Felix, nobody ever bothered to get to know him like Isabella did. How she spent her personal time away from Edward didn't factor into his feelings for her . . . until they did.

And then it all fell apart. So much went so wrong so quickly, he'd forgotten who shouldered the most blame. Isabella for telling him he and his money would never be good enough for her standards? Or was it Edward—driven by dollar signs and rage—seeking out Cullen Oil and buying it from under her just before her husband died?

_Husband_. Isabella had been married. It seemed like forever ago. He wondered whether she ever got the chance to mourn Cullen's passing. Or perhaps it never mattered to her at all? _That_ thought sickened him. Who marries without caring? Or only caring about the size of a bank account?

Despicable thoughts of her lack of morals and lifestyle churned his stomach even more, and now he had grown angry.

How fucking dare she? She barely acknowledged him while they stayed at his place for the last two weeks. She kept to herself, studying Italian, leaving her room to eat or answer a question from Felix, and nothing more. On the rare occasions she and Edward did speak, she never held eye contact with him. What more did she want from him? Isabella had called him! Crying and terrified on the other end of the phone; she'd been desperate. He was saving her life, or at least attempting to. He knew she must be frightened with all that had occurred to date, to say nothing of what _could_ go wrong from here on out, but he had hoped for a little more consideration at this point.

Now the question that gnawed at him: why even bother?

Isabella had asked him that a few times since the night he and Felix found her. Some days Edward had an answer prepared; other days, he thought too much about it, got nervous and retreated to his room. His answer, no matter how verbose, at the very least included: _You're worth it_.

And though her reaction on the plane had been yet another blow to his ego, he would never deny that he'd do it all over again. He knew her—the _real_ her. Though she'd been labeled by the media and her accusers as a money-grubbing tramp—they would never know her as so much more than those harsh tags. Yes, she may have desired money and power, but in Isabella's moments of vulnerability, Edward saw her. She _let_ him see her. And _that's_ the idea he held onto, the true image of the girl with whom he fell in love. That Scrabble-playing, omelet-making, water color-painting girl. The one person under the sun who could coax him out from under his protective shell and into the light.

Yeah, he'd do it all over again.

In his eyes and in his wasted heart, she'd always be worth it.

**$GREED$**

"Are you kidding me?" Felix shouted at the two _vespas_ that whizzed by on the right as another car swerved around their rental to the left. "Doesn't anyone use a goddamn turn signal? People must die here in fiery wrecks every ten minutes!"

Edward and Isabella stayed quiet in the backseat as Claudia tried without success to contain her smirk. None of them had ever heard Felix so worked up. The Italian _Autostrada_ seemed to be a NASCAR training ground for escaped mental patients, or so it appeared to the doe-eyed Americans. Claudia reached over to massage her boyfriend's neck, but he flinched.

"I'm fine, I'm fine," Felix snapped.

"You don't seem fine, honey. Are you sure you don't want me to take over?"

"I can drive the damn car, Claudia. Just . . . gimme some space."

She nodded. "Okay."

He laid on his horn. "Stay in your fucking lane, fucking cocksucker! _Avanza_!"

"Felix!" Isabella and Claudia shrieked at the same time that Edward chuckled, proud of his friend who so smoothly told the other wild driver to go to hell.

.

.

.

After a three-hour drive, and almost a half a dozen near-death experiences, they arrived in Sorrento. The city brewed with vigor as the noon hour approached, and they were able to find the villa after getting turned around just once. Felix made his way toward an enormous _parcheggio_ sign down the road where they could park until they learned where their assigned spot would be located.

Felix drove up to the machine and inserted the correct amount of Euros into the slot, but the mechanical arm didn't rise. He pressed a few more buttons; his minimal knowledge of Italian allowing him to decipher the directions.

"What the hell?" He smacked the top of the contraption. "I did what it told me to do!"

Claudia shifted over the console. "Hang on. Lemme read and see if you missed a step."

"Babe, I didn't miss a step. Oh, wait, here comes the attendant. _Mi scusi, signore_!" Felix waved his arm out the window.

An older gentleman approached the car, dipping his head down and nodding to everyone.

"_Buongiorno."_

"_Si, buongiorno,"_ Felix replied. "_Signore_, I d—deposited the _soldi_," he rubbed his fingers together, pointing them toward the slot. Everyone in the car chuckled at his ludicrous version of Itanglish. "But the uhh . . . the uhhh . . ." he held his hand out to the barrier, which held still in its locked position. "The arm-a . . . she's a no go up-pa."

Claudia, Isabella and Edward exploded into laughter, and Felix shook his head, ignoring the peanut gallery.

"Ohhh, _si si_." The attendant pressed a few buttons, and within seconds, the barrier lifted.

Felix and Claudia waved. "_Grazie mille_."

"_Prego!"_

Felix pulled into a space between two _mezza-macchinas_—half-cars, as Edward dubbed them, since their size didn't hold a candle to the average size vehicle in the States.

"Umm, honey?" Claudia couldn't keep a straight face. "The arm-a? She's a no go up-pa?"

Isabella started giggling again.

Edward rolled his eyes, giving Felix a thumbs up. "Stellar communication skills, man," he added from the back seat.

"Hey, he knew what I meant. We got in, didn't we?"

Claudia leaned over and kissed him. "We sure did, baby. Well done."

Felix turned in his seat to face Edward. "You ready? We have to cross the street and then walk another hundred feet to the villa's front door. Bet we can do it in sixty seconds. You okay with that?"

Edward pulled his newly-purchased Fedora—a 'welcome to Italy' present from Claudia—lower on his head, shielding his eyes as much as possible. His sunglasses had been in place ever since they stepped onto the tarmac in Rome.

"I can handle sixty seconds. I just hope no arm-as will be blocking us along the way."

They all laughed again as Felix added, "Yeah . . . now I'm gonna find one just because you're a smartass."

**$GREED$**

"It's a breathtaking view." Isabella walked into the living room from the patio, which overlooked the Gulf of Naples and Mount Vesuvius. "Maybe it won't be so bad."

Claudia couldn't mask the concern in her voice. "It won't be. You know what to do; you'll both be careful, not taking any unnecessary risks. Tomorrow, Felix and I will pick up the car that Edward bought, so you when you two get cabin fever, you'll be able to get away."

Isabella couldn't stop herself from barking out a laugh. "That's a good one."

Claudia sighed and sat down on the sofa. Isabella's attitude was a mood-killer. Claudia stared at her, waiting to hear whatever explanation might be coming next. "Why is that so funny?"

"It's not, really." Isabella shook her head. "He's a hermit. Agoraphobic . . . whatever you want to call it. Edward doesn't 'get away,' Claudia. You know that by now."

"Maybe some time will help with that? Maybe this new place will bring about some changes."

"You're mighty optimistic." Isabella pulled her sunglasses up onto her head, her hair now out of her face. "And I don't mean to belittle your friendship with him. I know you've gotten close, but he doesn't do 'changes' well at all. I don't even know how Felix got him out of his apartment the day he needed to sign the papers for the company."

"He did it with the help of his doctor," Claudia whispered, knowing Edward might've been on his balcony above them. "That, and maybe the coaxing from Felix and me helped somewhat, too." She put down her goblet of iced tea. "But I'd also imagine he did it for you. Because he lo—_cares_ for you . . . quite a bit." She didn't know how much Isabella knew of Edward's feelings. Felix had given Claudia the abridged version of what occurred between them, but men always leave out nuances that women would know mattered.

Isabella scoffed, Claudia's word slip-up not escaping her. "No, I don't really think Edward knows how to love anybody and neither do I. He had a crappy upbringing. Not that mine was so glamorous, but as adults we both lived the lives that suited our needs. Edward and I are selfish, greedy people. I'm no angel, but he sure as hell does everything he needs to do without worrying about how it affects others. Darkened rooms, few people if any when he has to attend a meeting or go anywhere. Edward says jump and the entire population has to respond with 'how high?' And purposely buying the company out from under me? He knew what I was after. He did that out of spite and nothing more."

Claudia could see Isabella's pain beneath the surface. "Maybe he wanted your attention?"

"Yeah, well, he got it."

"You can't make him take the blame that your other . . ." Claudia paused, choosing her words carefully, "_choices_ became front page news at the same time you learned of the purchase."

"No, you're right. It had been very shitty timing, but an even shittier thing to do." Isabella lit a cigarette and walked toward the patio again. "If he cared so much, he wouldn't have done such a devious thing. He looked at it as a good investment. He knew how much of a profit he was making. Any way you slice that, it's pure fucking greed." She flicked her ashes, turning back to Claudia again. "Jesus, I remember the day I found out. My blood fucking boiling." She shook her head, taking another drag. "I stormed his place, demanding an explanation. I suppose he and I could've duked it out if my life didn't blow up on the front page before I got arrested and hidden away."

"So that's what I mean. Maybe Sorrento can be a second chance for you both. I'm not blathering about sunshine and rainbows . . . I think time might heal the hurt. You guys are all each other has from here on out until . . ." –Claudia put her palm to her forehead— "God, I don't even know how long. This might be your new home."

"I know that, too. And please don't think I'm not grateful to you and Felix and even Edward for what you're all doing for me. I'm just terrified right now, to be honest, and I'm questioning every fucking thing that's transpired since the beginning of the year. It's so damn surreal. Six months ago? Our lives were one hundred eighty degrees from where they are now." She sighed, leaning against the door frame. "I'm very much struggling with how to deal with Edward, though. He's been so kind, giving . . . brave." Claudia watched Isabella's face turn from confused to impressed with each new utterance. "None of it adds up when I think about him being so brutally hurtful to me."

Claudia nodded, listening, watching tears pool in Isabella's eyes.

"And then there's Felix," Isabella huffed, smiling. "Did you know he used to call me nothing but 'Ma'am'? I couldn't pay him to call me by my name. And now it's like he's my older brother, just without the noogies and the shared DNA."

"He told me he drove you for a while."

She nodded. "Yeah. He's uhh . . . he kept a lot of secrets of mine over the years. I guess on some level I knew that he knew what I'd been up to, but he never questioned me. I wonder how I would've reacted if he had confronted me."

"Maybe, in addition to having some deep heart to heart talks with Edward, you and Felix need to iron out some underlying issues. Turn over a new leaf with both of them."

"I suppose so." Isabella sighed. "I just can't believe I'm back to square one. I lost _everything_ I had worked for, and for what?"

Claudia joined Isabella at the patio. "I don't know what to say, and I'm sorry you had to go through so much . . . but sometimes life breaks you down completely before you can start to rebuild. Rebuild something meaningful, something long-lasting. It's cliché, but everything happens for a reason."

Isabella turned toward the view again. "I've got nothing but time at this point. Never did much self-reflection because I knew I'd hate what I saw."

"Reflections can change in six months," Claudia replied, hoping to get through to Isabella.

"We'll see, I guess." Isabella chuckled. "We just managed to drag a guy—who lived in the shadows of his apartment for years—six thousand miles from where he's most comfortable . . . I suppose anything is possible."

* * *

**A/N: Hugs and love for my Team _GREED:_ Lay, Hood, Born, Cejsmom and Momo. I wouldn't be able to do what I do without them doing what they do, ya dig? Thank you SO, so much to all of my fantastic readers, followers, favoriters and those who've taken a moment to review. Hope you're all enjoying the ride. **

**xo, Jen**


	14. Chapter 14

**$GREED$**

Alone on the patio, Isabella swirled her red wine before guzzling what remained. She set the glass down just as the sky lit up with a colorful display. Fireworks were exploding down near the marina. She'd always enjoyed the Fourth of July in America; here, it seemed they'd be celebrating with fireworks every couple of nights. Claudia told her to get used to it; the people of Sorrento would set off fireworks just because it happened to be a Tuesday, no rhyme or reason needed.

Isabella felt frustrated, having been cooped up ever since their arrival in Italy almost two weeks earlier. Edward had been in his room since early in the afternoon today. She didn't bother to offer him dinner. Conversation between them had been strained at best since they left Austin. Every time she tried to be cordial, he mumbled a reply and left the room. She knew something would have to give eventually, but for now she'd let him keep to himself. Once Felix and Claudia took off though, all bets were off. She needed Edward to start acknowledging her, whether he liked it or not.

She knew Claudia was right about talking to Felix. They were leaving in two days, and Isabella still hadn't found an opportunity to pull him aside to thank him for all he'd done for her, and to apologize for so much more. With only silence to occupy her time, her mind forced her to remember that awful night with Felix.

_**. . . five months earlier . . .**_

_Isabella didn__'__t say a word for the entire three and a half-hour trip; traffic seemed heavier than normal. She stared out the window in a daze, as a warm April afternoon gave way to the evening twilight. Felix didn__'__t play any music in the car for them, and he didn__'__t bother to engage her in conversation, ever since she stormed down to the lobby of The Austonian with tears streaming down her cheeks. He__'__d asked if she needed anything, but she only shook her head. He left it at that._

_Felix__'__s cell pinged numerous times with texts during the drive from Austin back to Dallas. He never picked up, though. Isabella assumed the messages must be all from Edward. Her blood boiled even thinking his name. That sleeping snake in the grass, who waited until she almost had it all before he ripped it out from under her. _

_She felt violated, despondent. How could she have ever believed they were such close friends?_

_The darkness of Edward__'__s home never matched the brilliant light in his heart; she knew that. It was why she got so close to him. He had a courageous soul and a beautiful mind. His quiet life of solitude never scared her away. He deserved that peace after the hand life had dealt him as a child and young adult. Isabella needed to be out in the world, in the middle of the action, but she never forced those feelings on Edward. It was likely the reason they got along so well. Their friendship clicked, as opposite as they were. _

_An ironic turn of events, really; the shadows of Edward__'__s home seemed like the safest place both physically and emotionally for her tonight. With her entire personal and professional life about to be splattered all over the news, she now craved the comfort of anonymity and silence. But after today__'__s ordeal, she never wanted to see Edward again. _

_Whatever the media were speculating __warranted a slew of news vans and reporters with microphones staking out the entrance to Isabella's gated community. Felix managed to pull past the crowd unnoticed. She felt grateful in that small moment; if the vultures had__ pounded on the windows and doors, it would__'__ve set her off like a ticking time bomb whose clock ran out hours earlier. _

_He parked the car in the driveway but remained silent for a beat. She caught his gaze in the rearview mirror and exploded. "How could you let him do that to me? You had to know!" _

"_Know what?" He stared back at her reflection and then turned to look over his shoulder. "What happened?"_

_Isabella tore out of the back seat, slamming that door and rounding the car to kneel on the front seat next to him. "Don__'__t fucking play dumb, Felix. You knew exactly what I walked into this morning at that meeting with Carlisle__'__s lawyer. You knew Edward bought Cullen Oil, and you let me keep believing—"_

"_Whoa, whoa, whoa . . . hang on. I didn__'__t—_don't_ know anything about that. Edward never told me about buying Cullen Oil."_

"_You expect me to believe that? He__'__s your best goddamn friend AND your employer. You know all his major business decisions; I know you do!" _

"_I have no idea what you__'__re talking about. What do you mean—"_

"_LI-AR!" She smacked her hand on the dashboard with both syllables. _

"_Isabella, I swear to you, if I__'__d known what happened, I would__'__ve clued you in." He lifted his hands in surrender. "I—I__'__m sorry."_

_She ripped her fingers through her hair, leaned forward and screamed at the top of her lungs. It didn__'__t help. _

"_Cut this bullshit, Felix! How could you keep this from me? I thought we were friends!" __Isabella__'__s emotions poured out in a deluge__._

_He froze in confusion and shock, unable to keep pace while she escalated from sobbing to shrieking._

"_But we__'__re not friends, are we, Felix? You__'__re just like all the rest of them, right?" she snarled. In an instant, her demeanor shifted from stormy to slutty. She leaned forward, lowering her voice. "Did he tell you what I was like in bed, too? Did you swap fantasies about me while he regaled you with how I got him off? How my hand gripped his cock? How my tits felt? What my soaked pussy looked like?" she seethed, grabbing her chest and thrusting her hips at him. _

"_Isa—" Alarmed, Felix moved his hands to her waist, keeping her at bay._

"_Come on," she cackled over his voice. "I know you want it." Isabella worked her fingers furiously at the buttons of her dress, flicking them open one by one and exposing her lacy, black camisole. "You__'__ve been smelling the sex on me for years now." Her voice dropped as if to bait this man—her closest ally. "How fucking horny can a guy get before he needs to act on it?"_

_Felix held her back, desperate to stop her maniacal words and actions. "Isabella, stop! Christ, STOP already!"_

"_I__'__ll fuck you right here. You__'__ve earned it, buddy. It__'__ll probably be the last dick I ever suck before I end up in prison, cheek-bone deep in butch snatch all day long."_

"_No!" Felix shouted, grabbing Isabella on her upper arms and shaking her. "Are you hearing yourself? Why are you doing this?"_

"_Because it__'__s who I am! You know this and so do I," __she sneered. __"The whole world is about to know it, too. Come on, Felix! Fucking DO IT!" _

_She tried to lunge forward, but he squeezed her arms tighter. _

"_Enough," he growled. "You__'__re acting like you__'__ve lost your fucking mind. I get that the walls are crumbling right now, but," –he shook his head— "you__'__re not making any sense. Let me get you inside and we__'ll . . . I don'__t know. Just . . . let__'__s go."_

_Isabella__'__s eyes glazed over, exiting the car before she walked up her front stoop. Felix stood behind her while she unlocked the door. As usual, he entered first, ensuring her home was secure. _

_Satisfied that everything appeared to be safe, he returned to the living room to find her tapping furiously on the screen of her phone. _

"_Okay. Now let__'__s try—"_

"_Don__'__t worry about it. I__'__m fine. Just go.__"_

_He shook his head. "No, I want to talk and see if I can—"_

"_There__'__s nothing for you to do! Besides, I have to meet somebody in about twenty minutes. I need to freshen up and get out of here."_

_He blanched. "Are you—are you kidding me right now? Where are you going?"_

_She barked out a laugh. "When has my list of clientele ever been your business?"_

"_Isabella!" He pointed toward the door. "You__'__re all over the news, and it__'__s probably only going to get worse! Do you really want to put yourself out there to be chewed up and spit out?"_

"_I don'__t give a shit what you think, okay? I don__'__t need you to approve my decisions. That__'__s how I live. I put myself out there to be chewed up, spit out and fucked every which-way! You don__'__t want a piece, fine," –she shrugged, tossing her phone on the couch— "__doesn__'__t mean I don__'__t have a dozen other suckers ready and willing to blow their load on me." _

_Felix took three quick steps, towering over her with a finger in her face. "You__'__ve gone off the fucking deep end, you hear me?" His neck strained in tension, a throbbing artery visible under his skin. "I__'__m here to help you! I__'__ve always been here when you needed me and now you__'__re spiraling!" he boomed, but she didn__'__t back down. "I want to be your friend right now, but you__'__re making it impossible! What__'__s going to happen if—"_

"_Don__'__t fucking worry about me! We__'re done! I'__m not your problem anymore. You__'__ve been carting my ass around for years, and I__'__m sick of it. I can do this shit on my own. Go back to being Edward__'s chump. You'__re nothing to me. I don__'__t need you. I don__'__t need Edward.__" She waved him off, no longer interested in his worthless words._

_The anger __o__n his face faded, replaced by something resembling resignation, even sorrow. Isabella dashed away her tears of frustration and fury. _

"_That__'__s where you__'__re wrong, Isabella. Everybody needs somebody. You have no idea how special you are, no clue what self-worth even means. And you . . . this life you__'__ve been living . . . I don__'__t think you have anybody at all. At least nobody who counts." He looked away before turning back, outrage in his glassy eyes while he jabbed his finger in his chest. "I counted! Edward counted! We were in your corner. Even after you tossed Edward away, I still fought to stand by you, while you continued to be a selfish, greedy—"_

_The smack she landed hard on his cheek shut him up, leaving him only to step back in astonished silence. Wrecked, Isabella could no longer make sense of anything in her life. Friends, goals, money . . . with none of it certain, she__'d__ bec__o__me unhinged. _

"_Go the fuck home, Felix. You don__'__t have to fight to stand by me anymore. This battle is over." She fell into her couch, no longer looking at him._

"_Pretty sure you__'__re wrong on that one, too. I would guess your battle is just beginning." His calm whisper should__'__ve been soothing; instead it held the premonition of every fear she ever had. "That enemy out there is going to be like nothing you__'__ve ever seen." He pulled the door open and stepped through, muttering, "Good luck with that."_

_Moments later, she heard tires screeching__.__T__he eerie silence of her new world crept in, wrapping its claws around her neck and squeezing . . . _

Isabella clamped her eyes shut as tears of shame spilled. She scrubbed at her face, desperate to rid herself of the words and images from that ugly night so many months ago. Moments later, Isabella heard Felix and Claudia walking up the front path.

"Well, you better have some soon before I finish my cone," Claudia laughed. "Nocciola is my favorite, and I promise I won't be throwing any away tonight."

"I still say you wasted that limone last night."

Felix held the door open as Claudia stepped through. Isabella met them at the foot of the stairs.

"No, sir. Somehow I hoped the limone would get me tipsy like the limoncello did the night before." They all smirked at her illogical response. "Without the kick though, it tasted too boring for me, not worth the calories."

"We need a few gallons of limoncello before we fly out." He quirked his brow. "You're wild when you're sauced." Felix tickled Claudia's side while she stuck her tongue out at him.

"Sorry to interrupt, you two," Isabella spoke. "Felix, do you mind if we talk for a second?"

Claudia straightened up. "Oh, you guys go right ahead. I'm going to grab a shower before bed anyway." She pecked Felix on the lips and headed for the marble staircase. Squeezing Isabella's wrist when she passed, she whispered, "Glad you'll talk. See you in the morning."

Isabella gave a faint nod in reply, and Felix headed outside. The September temperatures in Sorrento were still warm. They hadn't yet needed to close their balcony doors or windows at night. A walk on the beach would be serene and a welcomed change, but Isabella certainly didn't want to do it alone. She never wanted to do anything alone.

Old habits die hard.

"What's up? You okay?" Felix questioned when she joined him on the patio. "Sit." He positioned the two lounge chairs next to each other so they could get comfortable. He was always taking care of her, taking care of everyone.

His simple action brought her to tears in an instant. "Thank you," she sniffled.

He dashed over, wrapping his arm around her shoulder. "Hey, hey, hey, what's all this?" He attempted to calm her, rubbing his hand up and down her arm. "C'mere." He pulled them back a step, and they sat on the cushion of the same chair.

Felix waited while Isabella took a few deep breaths, trying to get her emotions together. She wasn't a crier, as a rule. At least, not until her world fell apart.

"What's going on?" he started. "Did he say something to you?" Felix jerked his chin up to the second-floor balcony where Edward was most likely reading. "Do I have to kick his ass?"

She shook her head. "He doesn't say anything to me," she whispered, tucking her hair behind her ear. "I'm sure it's my own fault, though. One of the million things I need to make up for, I guess. All the sins I've committed?" She looked at him with remorse. "I'll be dead and buried long before I get through half that list of reparations."

Felix didn't answer, just dropped his arm and positioned himself to face her.

"Where's this coming from?"

"I'm scared."

He nodded. "I get that. This whole situation is scary. I'm scared for you. Both of you." His exhaled breath sounded harsh. "On most occasions, I'm the guy who has a solution for everything, but this . . ." he trailed off.

"Felix, I need to tell you how sorry I am."

His brow furrowed, his stare unwavering.

"What I said to you that night after we got back to my place in Dallas. After finding out what Edward had done . . ."

He waved his hand. "It's over, forgotten. We've got bigger problems now."

She accepted the handkerchief he passed to her. "Like this," —she waved the cloth around— "this is a perfect example of how you're always there for me, for everyone, so fucking smooth . . . not that that's a bad thing." She dabbed under her eyes. "And thank you, by the way."

His smile held mirth. "You're welcome. Continue."

"You've always been there. You never judged me, at least not outwardly, when I didn't have anyone except for Edward, I mean." She shook her head. "Yeah, I guess he was always there, but you . . . you were there for _everything_. The late nights, the questionable attire, the walks of shame."

"Isabella—"

"No, please let me say this." She threw her palm up to him.

He sighed and nodded, waiting for her to continue.

"You knew what I was doing._ I knew _that you knew what I was doing . . . and yet, you never confronted me, never told Edward." She looked directly at Felix. "Why?"

He raised and lowered his eyebrows, not immediately answering. "It wasn't my business to tell. I mean, I'll be honest, I never lied to Edward. He hired that PI all on his own. I didn't know about him until a couple of months before you guys fought in February."

"So, he knew all that time and never said anything to you or me? Once you both knew about my secret seedy choices, did he ask you about my . . . activities?"

"Isn't this a talk you should be having with him?"

She nodded. "I will. I'm just trying to figure out why you both were protecting me . . . I mean, I guess it was a form of protection. But that night . . . what I said to you. I didn't mean it. I didn't think it then, and I promise I don't think it now." She looked at him as he tilted his face to the starlit sky. A strong breeze blew through, and the smell of the growing lemons swirled around them. "I've spent more time with you platonically than I have with any other man in my life. And I know I behaved in an incredibly inappropriate way that night." Isabella's tears continued to flow in between her words. "Can you ever forgive me? I mean, really forgive me?"

"I'm not going to pretend that what you said didn't hurt . . . because I'd be lying. Do you know I've never cried a day in my adult life, but I had to get my shit together before I drove back to Austin that night?" He shook his head, his face contorted.

"I was awful."

"You were hurt. Your life started to crumble earlier that day. You doled out misplaced anger, and I get that now. But yeah, it fucked with my head for a while."

Isabella scrubbed her hands up and down her face. "This is what I mean. I have so many people that deserve apologies. And I'll never be able to give them . . . not now, anyway."

"You and Edward need to sit down and work out all the shit that mucked up your history together. But I can't leave you here, worrying that one of you is going to snap and flip the fuck out. It'll put you both in jeopardy."

"I know that. And I swear on everything I own—which isn't much at this point—that I'll never do anything to risk my safety or Edward's . . . I owe him that much. I don't know what the future holds, or how long we'll have to live like this, shrouded in mystery, but I'll never take him for granted, or you."

Felix held out his hand, and she slipped hers into his grasp.

"I'm going to hold you to that, young lady. I stand by what I said to you that night, even though you weren't listening. You _are_ worthy of a life of happiness. You might've looked for it in the wrong places and trusted the wrong people, but that doesn't change the road ahead of you. You are special. A gift that somebody out there deserves . . . you just haven't been opened yet."

"Opened," she huffed. "I feel like I've been flayed for all the world to see."

He shook his head. "Nahhh. Your best is yet to come. Knocked down a peg or twenty? Hell yeah, you were. But nothing can stop you from discovering the real you. You're in there. I've seen glimpses of it over the years. Saw it the most in the last couple of weeks, but you're just barely scratching the surface of how incredible the real Isabella is . . . Bella, if I may be so bold."

She stiffened at the use of the childhood nickname. "Not you, too," she groaned.

"I won't overuse it, scout's honor." He held up three fingers.

She pushed his knee. "You were never a scout, were you?"

He quirked his eyebrow. "See how much you don't know about me?"

Isabella's gaze cast downward, Felix's words echoing what she'd been beating herself up about.

"Exactly. How could I have been so fucking wrapped up in myself, in my own selfish world, I didn't bother to ever learn anything about you? Who the hell was I, that I treated you like a peon?" She buried her face in her hands.

"I don't think you treated me like a peon. At least I didn't feel that way. I knew my job for Edward included driving you around. I did my job."

"I could've asked you about your family. I could've asked you how you spent your time away from me."

"Isabella," His voice was even, trying to reel her in. "You're blowing this way out of proportion. You knew me. We knew each other. That's why it hurt so much when we broke up." He nudged her shoulder with his.

She snorted at his silliness and looked up to find him smiling.

"There. That's better. But seriously, what happened that night in Dallas, it's over. I wouldn't have camped out in Abilene at the Marriott for days on end if I didn't continuously worry about you. Yeah, Edward asked me to do it, but trust me, he didn't have to twist my arm. I care about you. I know you fucked up, but we all fuck up from time to time. It can and will get better. You just have to trust yourself, and ultimately, trust Edward."

"We're both so broken." She reached for her pack of cigarettes. "It'll take a miracle for us to get back even a sliver of what we used to have."

"It's there. You both might have to dig for it, but it's still there."

"He hurt me," she turned, blowing the smoke away from them, "and I sure as hell know I hurt him."

"Like I told him a while ago, you both need a clean slate. This is it." He widened his arms. "This can be where you rebuild. I have no idea what the future holds, but an ally wouldn't be such a bad thing, right?"

She nodded, tapping her ashes into the tray. "You're right. You always are." She looked him in the eyes. "Thank you, Felix. You've saved my life, literally and figuratively. More times than I deserved."

"I'll always be here, Isabella. As long as I'm breathing, I'm in your corner." He reached for her hand again and squeezed. "I promise."

* * *

**A/N: Thanks and hugs to my _GREED_y team: Lay, Hoodie, Born, Cejsmom and Momo. As always, thank you so very much to my readers and those who take the time to leave me their thoughts, feelings and theories in a review. **

**You all blew me away when I found out this morning that _Tip of the Spear_ was voted number five out of the top ten fics completed in 2014 in the Twilight FanFiction Recs Poll. I mean, wow, what an honor to be included in such a fantastic group of recognized writers! Congratulations to all the winners and to all my fellow writers who put their blood, sweat and tears into their tales every day! You rock; we all do!**

**My bank of chapters is dwindling, so the next update will be a week from now, next Sunday. I'll try to write as quickly as I can so that we can get back to updates twice a week, but between snow days for my kids and a crazy** **life in general, this winter is exhausting me!**

**Thanks for reading! xo, Jen**


	15. Chapter 15

**$GREED$**

It had been three days since Felix and Claudia waved goodbye and drove back to Rome where the Cullen Oil jet waited for them. Hugs and some tears peppered the conversations between Claudia and Isabella on their last day together. On the other end of the villa, Felix and Edward exchanged warnings and bolstering pep talks before the time arrived for Felix to take off.

With a wistful smile, Isabella peeled the fresh eggplant she'd grabbed from the garden earlier that morning. There were also peppers, potatoes, zucchini, tomatoes, yellow squash, lemons and olives growing in the gardens surrounding the villa. Claudia's cousin passed along a message that they were welcome to pick any of the vegetables and fruit growing on the property.

She wiped her brow, sautéing the fresh veggies in olive oil with a bit of salt, pepper and garlic. Claudia had made and frozen a triple batch of sauce for them a few days prior, so Isabella found herself with the easy part: boiling water for the linguine. Once everything finished cooking, Isabella plated her food and opened a bottle of Chianti that Felix had picked up when they first arrived. After pouring herself a generous glass, she proceeded to the patio to dine in the fresh air, _all__'__aperto._

Just like in _Groundhog Day__,_ Isabella did this for breakfast, lunch and dinner for the last three days with no variation. She saw zero evidence that Edward lived in the villa, with the exception of the sounds of water running in the bathroom from time to time.

He didn't seek her out, didn't engage her the two times they passed in the hall, and she'd almost arrived at her breaking point. Instead of digging in at her pathetic table for one, she took a generous gulp of wine and decided to put her plan in motion.

_Operation: Get Edward to Acknowledge Isabella and Say Fucking Anything_ needed to get underway.

Figuring she'd have better luck capturing her reclusive fly with honey rather than vinegar, she intended to approach him with a cheerful invitation to dinner downstairs. Yes, she'd already set out her dish with the intention of eating alone, but he didn't know that. She had to start somewhere. Maybe he'd shock the shit out of both of them and join her. That premise had her skipping to the staircase.

Isabella made her way to the second floor, knocked on his door and waited.

"Yes?" A muffled reply came from within the room.

"Umm, I sautéed some fresh vegetables from our garden and made a plate of pasta to go along with it." No response as she continued to talk to the silver door knob. "I just— wasn't sure if you wanted some dinner." _Silence_. "Haven't seen you all day," she murmured that last bit to herself, overwhelmed with that familiar feeling of desertion.

When Edward didn't respond, she stepped back and walked down the hall toward the staircase. Right before she turned the corner, the bedroom door opened, and Edward appeared in the crack.

"Oh, hi." She took a few tentative steps toward his room again.

"I'm really not feeling well enough to come down, but thank you."

"Edward." She sighed. "Have you eaten at all since they left?"

He nodded. "I've eaten some fruit. Some crackers and stuff. I'm fine."

"Okay, but can I at least make you a plate and bring it up? You remember my cooking, right?" She tried to smile, wanting any kind of reaction out of him other than indifference. "I mean, it's not gourmet or anything, but I've put a few pounds on you over the years, haven't I?"

"A plate would be great. Thanks."

He avoided any acknowledgment of their past times together. Isabella believed he just acquiesced so that she'd get out of his doorway. Her plan would prove impossible if she couldn't crack his bunker-like shell.

"I'll bring it up. Just give me a few minutes."

When she returned, she knocked again and waited. "Edward, I have your dinner." Biting the inside of her cheek seemed to be her one salvation so she wouldn't make a snide comment the next time he graced her with his silhouette in the crack of the door.

When he opened it, she plastered a fake grin on her face. "Here you go. And I also toasted up some of that bread Claudia came back with a few days ago. It started to get stale, but I mixed up a spread to make some garlic bread to go with the pasta." Her cheerful voice and sweet demeanor would send a normal person to the dentist in need of a filling for a cavity. Edward, however, remained unaffected.

"Thanks."

She stepped away again with a small wave. "Okay, well . . . I'll be downstairs for a while. Might check out the fireworks tonight. They've done them four nights straight, now."

"Okay. Goodnight."

"Night." Her shoulders sagged, and she retreated downstairs to finish off the bottle of Felix's Chianti.

"This couldn't possibly suck any more," she muttered to herself. The summer before senior year flashed through her mind, and a sickness settled in her gut. He had forced her to talk to his sleeve for three damn weeks before he'd allowed her see his face. Back to square one, it seemed.

She raised her glass toward his balcony. "You win this round, Hermitward. Here's to the shadows. They hide a multitude of sins, don't they?"

**$GREED$**

The sky outside of Edward's bedroom balcony doors illuminated with fireworks from the piazza downtown.

Another wedding, perhaps? Maybe just a birthday or even a christening. Italians needed little encouragement to do some major celebrating. Somehow the extravagant display only depressed Edward more.

His phone rang three times before he reached for it on the night stand. He knew it could only be Felix, and Edward hadn't mentally prepared for an ass-reaming.

"Yeah?"

"_Hey__,__ grumpy. How ya doing over there?"_

Edward raised his brows. "Same."

"_Same? What__'__s the same? Is the house okay? Any visitors come knocking or anything?"_

"I don't know. Don't think so."

"_How do you not know?"_

Here it comes. Edward paused for a beat before coming clean. "I don't know because I haven't left my room except to use the bathroom."

"_Edward, c__'__mon, man."_ Felix sounded beyond exasperated._ "Did you shut down? Have you spoken to Isabella at all in the days since we__'__ve been gone?"_

"No. Nothing more than a few words when she knocks on my door." He saw no point in lying. What could Felix do?

"I oughta fly back over there and kick your ass."

Edward pulled the phone from his ear and examined it, wondering briefly if he'd spoken his last thought. "Not necessary."

"_I told you . . . __**told **__you that you needed to keep it together and not freak out."_

The fireworks boomed louder as Edward approached the balcony. "That's what I'm doing. I'm up here in my room, staying away, so that I don't freak out."

"_I thought you were doing all right. You were fine up until we flew to Rome. After that, you seemed a little distant with me, but I figured you were just getting situated in the new place."_

"I've been fine getting used to the new place. I guess what Isabella said to me when we were flying just stuck with me, and I can't get past it." Edward knocked his head back against the door jam, still staring at the celebration in the distance. "In my gut, it feels like February all over again. She knocked the wind outta me, I guess."

Edward could hear Felix sighing on the other end of the phone. He felt like an ass even verbalizing his emotions out loud. Except for giving Felix more heartburn, what did he think he would accomplish by tattling on Isabella?

"_Listen, this is an adjustment period for her, just like it is for you. Each of you has a shit ton of baggage coming into this arrangement, and it won__'__t be easy to navigate, but you have to give it time. Has she reached out to you at all?"_

"Yeah, tonight she offered me dinner. Asked me to come downstairs and eat with her."

"_Well, that__'__s something!"_

"It was a pity invite."

"_Fuck, Edward. Everything is going to be a pity invite to you. She__'__s the only one you__'__ve got. Hell, it__'__s **your** bank account footing the bill for this whole extravagant ploy. Are you pitying her by paying for every single thing?"_

"No, of course not. She doesn't have the means, and I want to do it."

"_Why do you want to do it?"_

"Because I care about her! I love her, and I didn't want to see her get hurt, so I intervened."

Edward heard nothing but a few seconds of silence on the other end of the call.

"_Exactly."_

Edward huffed, pulling the phone from his ear once again to stare at it before chuckling his way through his next response. "I know you're not telling me that she loves me. We all know _that's_ a load of crap."

"_Is it?"_ More silence. _"__Edward, look. I__'__m not going to speak for Isabella, and I__'__m certainly not going to tell you that she loves you, but you know she cares."_

"Yup, pity-cares."

"_Hohhh-kay. I__'__m done here. I can__'__t be there to smack any sense in you tonight. But I__'__ll be back in a month. I have shit to take care of here for you up at Cullen Oil, and I can__'__t fix your mental block right now. I can tell you, however, you better get over yourself and fast, or else you__'__re going to be miserable and make her miserable for the rest of your goddamn lives. __**You**__ did this, Edward. You__'__re the one who volunteered. Time to pull up your big girl panties, and suck this shit up."_

"Wow, you should go on tour as a motivational speaker. I'm a changed man."

"_Yeah, yeah, yeah. Just . . . give her a break. Give yourself a break. This is going to take time, but it__'__ll take a hell of a lot longer if you hide in your bedroom. Just, do it in baby steps. Rome wasn__'__t built in a day."_

"Mhmm, and neither was the villa three hours south."

"_Right. Hang in there. Drink some wine. Walk downstairs and I don__'__t know . . . just sit in the living room if you have to. Nobody__'__s telling you to go outside and take a bus tour. But you__'__ve got it in you. You__'__ve done it, been brave enough to deal with the open air and the sunlight when it became necessary. Well, think of it this way: every day it__'__s going to be necessary. Every day you have to give a little bit more in order to survive this. It__'__s your only option."_

Edward thought about Felix's words as he heard the sound of glass breaking from the patio below.

"Uhhh," he scrambled to lean over the balcony to look, "I'm gonna go. I just heard something downstairs."

"_What? What did you hear?"_

"Some glass broke. I have to call you back!"

"_Fuck that, no! Stay on the pho—"_

Edward ended the call and tossed his cell on the bed before he swung his door open. Should he call out for Isabella? Had they been found already? He steeled himself, took in a deep breath and headed for the stairs, which he took two at a time, albeit quietly. When he got to the bottom of the steps, he found the living room empty, though the patio doors were wide open. The dull booming of the fireworks could still be heard in the distance. A shattered wine glass blocked the entrance to the patio. Instead of heading toward the mess, he retreated in the opposite direction toward the bathroom and kitchen. When he came around the corner, he could hear whimpering, and his blood pressure sky-rocketed.

_Fuck this,_ he thought_. I don'__t know what I__'__m hearing, but if this is the end, I refuse to be anywhere but next to her when it happens_. He bolstered himself, approaching the kitchen.

"AHHHH!" Isabella and Edward screamed at the top of their lungs when their bodies collided together in front of the refrigerator.

"Jesus Christ, are you out of your mind?" she shrieked. "I n—need to buy you a fucking bell! Cat bell, cow be—bell . . ." She stumbled then righted herself on the eight-foot-walk back toward the sink, holding her bleeding hand.

Edward, still clutching his chest, couldn't help the nervous laugh that escaped. At this point he was just thankful that he didn't walk into the kitchen to find Isabella weeping while some ninja-like hit-man held a knife against her throat.

Once he gathered his wits, he approached her with caution. She paid him no mind, picking at her skin while the water cascaded over her shaking hands.

"Are you all right?"

"No!" she shouted, but had a half-smile on her face. He'd heard her use that teasing tone in the past. The quick spread of warmth he felt through his body was a welcome distraction from the coldness of his recent solitude. When they made eye contact again, she wobbled at the sink, and he could see her eyes were glassy. _Is she drunk?_

"C'mere, what did you do?" He stepped close until their sides were flush.

"Dropped—dropped my wine glass." She jerked her head and her eyes rolled. "Heard a shot by the trees. Ih-wuz prahh-bally more cel—cel—berating, but it jusss . . ." Isabella shuddered, "too creepy after . . . ever-thing."

Edward nodded, watching the blood seep from the impressive slice across her two fingers. Hesitantly, he reached for her hand to bring it under the light for a better look. "Does it feel like you got all the glass out?" He pressed and manipulated her hand back and forth.

"Something feels . . . not . . . not . . . not . . good." Her eyes closed and she listed to the left. "I don—I dunno."

He pulled her back toward the sink and stuck both their hands under the warm water. Isabella pinched the skin surrounding the cut and a shard popped up, allowing Edward to grab it.

They seemed to exhale in unison before Edward let go of Isabella's hands. "Let me go check what Claudia stocked in the medicine chest. I'm sure there are Band-Aids, at least."

"Thhhhhank you."

Edward located a first-aid kit and returned to find Isabella sprawled on the couch next to the patio doors. The fireworks continued to illuminate the sky. Cheers from the crowds in Piazza Tasso could be heard as well. Something wonderful must be happening in somebody's world.

"Hey . . . can you sit up?"

She nodded and squirmed her body into an upright position, tucked in the corner of the sofa.

Isabella removed the towel that had been absorbing the blood. It didn't appear to be such a deep gash that it would've needed stitches, but Edward knew her hand would be sore for a while.

He worked in silence, concentrating just on her wound. He applied antibiotic ointment and Band-Aids, while it appeared that staying awake required her deepest concentration. Every so often, he'd look up and meet her lazy gaze, hating the thickness in the air. Words used to flow so easily during their exchanges. Those were the days when they were both none the wiser of the angst that lay ahead.

Maybe too much had happened, too much nastiness in their history. Maybe he would need to accept this tension as the new normal that seemed to have settled in the place of comfort, compassion, empathy, devotion.

_Devotion. _

He needed to rid that word from his vocabulary. He saw no sense mourning a state-of-being that was never a two-way street. He might've been devoted to Isabella, but she wasn't in the same realm.

She never—

"Ehh—ward?"

"Hmm?" He tossed the paper strips aside as he wrapped the bandage around her index finger.

"Where are you?"

Dipping his chin, his eyebrows rose, questioning her state of mind. Maybe she was beyond drunk and possibly hallucinating.

He cleared his throat. "Uhhh, I'm here. Here with you." He went back to work, smoothing more ointment over the pads of her middle finger. "Are you feeling woozy? Need to lie down?"

He watched her shake her head, sorrow marring her delicate features. "I jusss . . . jus wanna know when you'll come back to me."

He stilled before continuing to apply the tape to hold the larger bandage in place.

"Really not sure where you're going with this. I'm here with you . . . in our villa in Sorrento, Italy." He snickered, trying to bypass incredibly uncomfortable with lighthearted silly "How much did you drink, Tipsy McGee?"

She winced when the he tightened the tape.

"Sorry, you okay?" He flipped her hand over in his, smoothing the last of the wrinkles in the bandage.

"My hand'll be okay. But my head's startin'ta pound, the room is spinning, and m'heart is a little bru—bruised."

She swayed on the couch, and he steadied her shoulders. "Well, I can go get you some Tylenol for your head. The room is probably going to keep spinning until you sleep it off, I imagine."

"And my heart?"

He stood, his forehead creased in indecision. Should he bother stepping near this quicksand? _She__'__s drunk. She probably won__'__t remember a word of this. No sense in trying to initiate their first deep conversation in over seven months right now._

Edward pointed his thumb over his shoulder. "I'll go find some Tylenol and grab a bottle of water for you."

When he returned he found Isabella sipping from a new glass of Chianti. He could see tears in her eyes, but he couldn't figure out why she'd been crying . . . or maybe he just didn't want to delve.

"Here. But drink it with this." He passed her the medicine and a cold bottle of water. Slipping the wine glass from her other hand, he gently scolded. "I think you've had enough. You'll be sick tomorrow."

She glanced away with a nod, dashing a fallen tear.

After she downed the remedy, she wobbled again, trying to gain her footing on the cool tile floor.

"Whoa, yeah, you're not gonna make it up the steps alone. C'mere." Edward wrapped his arm behind her back, grasping her slender waist while leading her to the staircase.

She looked over their shoulders. "But the patio doorszhh . . ." Her slurred words made him smile.

"I'll come back down and get them. Let's just get you upstairs in one piece. You fall and crack your head open on this marble, and we're all up shit's creek."

Her head bobbled in agreement. When they arrived at her bedroom, he brought her to the queen bed, pulled away the blanket, and helped her raise her feet to get comfortable. "Are you all right to sleep in your clothes?"

She nodded, laying her head on the pillow.

"Here." Edward grabbed the waste basket from the corner of the room and set it down next to her nightstand. "Use this if you think you'll be sick during the night."

"Thanks for taking care of my hand and my head."

His sad smile gave way to a chuckle. "You're welcome. Anything else you need?"

Her eyes were closed, her tear-stained cheeks still wet. She shook her head and he stepped to the door.

"I'm lonely." It was barely a whisper from her lips, but he heard it plain as day.

Edward contemplated his next words while taking a deep breath and blowing it out through puffed cheeks. _I__'__m lonely_ was a loaded statement coming from her. So many variations of lonely existed within her world, but he didn't want to dwell on the brash and ugly. He didn't want to dump salt on wounds that needed a lifetime to heal.

"I'm sorry you're lonely. I wish I could make this better for you." He turned to face her. "I know you had so many friends before all of this happened. And I'm sure spending one weekend with me every month must have been a drop in the bucket compared to the lifestyle and experiences you'd grown accustomed to." His feelings of self-loathing started to swirl and blanket him. "I've been a fool to think this—"

"Z'not what I mean." She cut him off, her mumbled words dampened by the pillow. "I'm mishin' m'friend. He's here . . . but 'eez not."

Edward closed his eyes, sadness clutching his heart, knowing she needed him, even though her biting words a couple of weeks ago might've been cruel. Like him, she must've been just as frightened in this new place. Here in Sorrento, they were blasted into this unconventional scenario while the worlds they'd come to know and trust seemed light years away. Knowing deep down that the probability of ever returning was bleak, they would have to rely on each other.

Edward realized, now more than ever, that he needed to push past the barrier of hurt in order to pave the way for them to communicate, be near each other without recoiling . . . maybe even attempt a friendship where trust was evident.

He had no illogical expectations, but he also knew love, romance and passion wouldn't ever exist if the trust couldn't be rebuilt at the foundation.

They had to start over again . . . somewhere.

He walked back to the bed, standing over her petite form. Her eyes were still closed, but she hadn't fallen asleep.

"Isabella?"

"Hmmm?"

He took the bedding and pulled it across her body. "I'm here. For what it's worth, I _am_ profoundly sorry you've felt alone. We'll talk tomorrow."

"Yeah?" Her left eye fluttered open. She seemed cheered up with just his simple promise of a chat.

"Yes. Get some rest." He leaned over her bedside lamp and twisted the switch, leaving them in darkness.

As he pulled the door behind him, hearing Isabella whisper the word_ tomorrow_ gave him a glimpse of what could be. A chance at more . . . a freeing, clean slate where past transgressions and feelings of inadequacy could be tossed aside.

It could only get better; it had to. Edward promised himself there'd be a way to live this new life without the shackles of bitterness that plagued them for so long. He'd use this flicker of light to his advantage, rather than cower in a shadowed corner which would've been his instinctual response. Instead, he'd use it as a pursuit for higher ground. He had to take that leap, and he hoped she'd be willing to make the jump with him. Tomorrow.

When he returned to the main patio to close up the villa for the night, he stayed to watch the grand finale of fireworks. It seemed fitting; explosions and eruptions in the distance that kept everyone's attention but finally came to a silent end. Then, the darkness would take over while the world prepared for a new day.

As he walked up the staircase, he permitted himself a moment of optimism. It had been quite some time since he had a positive outlook over what might come his way.

Maybe the light that dawned tomorrow wasn't to be feared, but embraced.

* * *

**A/N: Thank you as always to Team _GREED_: Lay, Hood, Born,** **Cejsmom and Momo. And to all the readers who're coming along for the ride and those that take the time to stop by and leave me their thoughts, I'm profoundly grateful. Four days without heat and then three snow days basically ensured that I got absolutely no writing done last week. Boo. :( So for now, I'm going to have to say that it'll be another Sunday update for the next chapter. **

**Thanks again for reading!**

**xo. Jen**


	16. Chapter 16

**$GREED$**

Isabella woke with the sunlight beaming through her glass balcony doors. She had to blink to focus her eyes on the clock, which revealed a much later hour than she normally started her day. Feeling refreshed and thankful to not have a headache, she smiled as the aroma of hazelnut coffee wafted around her.

The realization that Edward must've been out of his room long enough to get the coffee pot started had her wanting to scurry downstairs. She hoped he hadn't been up for a while waiting for her. The thought that he might lose his nerve and retreat to his quarters before they had a chance to talk made her brush her teeth and make herself presentable in record time.

While descending the stairs, Isabella smelled bacon sizzling, and her heart clenched_. Edward's making breakfast?_ It had been more than six months since she watched him in the kitchen. Memories flooded her, of him trying to stay healthy and blending fruit smoothies for the two of them while she made her favorite Paula Deen recipes, which called for a minimum of one stick of butter. It had been more than six months since they'd done _a lot_ of things together. She hoped that whatever came of today's talk might pave the way to a friendship they could both rely on. Even if they wouldn't be as close as they used to be, she vowed to be grateful for every day they could find a moment of levity and honesty, with themselves and each other.

With all the hurt they'd hurled at each other since that fateful day, the time had come to close that chapter and start a new one.

She rounded the corner, and what she found had her grinning from ear to ear.

"Morning." Edward had been leaning back against the counter but straightened as she entered the room."How are you? Feeling good? Or better? I mean, how's—" he pointed at her, " . . . how's the hand?" The way he nervously stumbled through his words while grabbing the coffee pot had Isabella biting on her lip to keep from giggling.

"Overall, I'm doing pretty well, actually." She reached for the fresh mug he poured for her. "I think between that bottle of water and the Tylenol you gave me, I warded off whatever hangover punishment might've been barreling down." She took a seat across the room from him at the little table. The kitchen was on the small side in comparison to the other rooms. The table had a retro look to it, as if it had been transported from the set of _I Love Lucy. _"My hand's very sore, but that's to be expected, I suppose. How are _you_ doing? I'm not used to seeing you in a room with the door wide open." She smiled, grabbing for a piece of bacon. "Feeling adventurous?"

He shrugged, attempting to hide what Isabella tagged as a bashful look. "I guess . . . a little." He spoke softly, his coffee cup at his lips. "I made some blueberry pancakes. You want?"

"Would love some, thank you."

"You got it."

He turned his back toward her, taking the cast iron skillet out of the oven. Isabella was entranced, watching him move around the kitchen; grabbing the utensils, plating the food, placing the butter and syrup on the table for her. And though it wasn't the moment for ogling, she found herself holding her breath as she took in his casually fine presence.

It was a rarity that he ever wore anything other than khakis or dress pants and a button-down shirt. He always looked ready to attend a business meeting even if he only had plans to sit in his darkened living room alone with his laptop. The errant thought made her sad, but she refused to dwell on the person he used to be. Yes, he still had a clinical condition. And _yes_, all of the lights remained off in a room if he were present, but making the leap to open doors and windows this morning demonstrated an enormous stride in a series of little steps and changes. This could only be looked on as a positive check in the box.

Back to his outfit today, though, which had her mildly intrigued, to say the least.

"So, I have to say—" She stopped mid-sentence while he put her breakfast down in front of her. "Oh, thank you."

"You're welcome." He opened the fridge. "Some _blutorange_ juice, _Signora Carbone_?"

She snorted, bringing a forkful of pancakes to her mouth. "Yes, please, _Signor Carbone_. I don't know how I've lived this long without blood orange juice."

He scrunched up his face. "It sounds so much nicer as printed on the Italian carton. Blood orange juice sounds like a vendetta."

She raised her eyebrows. "Yeah, we're fully stocked on vendettas here; good point." She tittered nervously. "We'll stick with calling it _blutorange, arancia rossa_."

"Deal. Now, what did you want to say a minute ago?"

She swallowed down another bite of bacon and picked up her coffee. "I was going to say I think I can count on one hand when I've seen you dress so casually. Faded jeans, black concert T-shirt—Aerosmith, no less."

He ducked his head sitting down, but she could see his eyes crinkle, that half-smile creeping in. "I've always liked Aerosmith, in fact. While we were at Eton, Felix used to play their classic albums on a loop. I'd be holed up in my shoebox of a bedroom, but he'd be jamming in the common room, fingering his tennis racket like his idol, Joe Perry." Edward snickered, recalling the memory. "He went to a concert once and brought me back this vintage shirt." He pulled on the material. "I have an affinity for the _Permanent Vacation_ and _Pump_ albums."

"Hmmm." She tapped her fingernails on the table, studying him before nodding. "I was probably conceived the night they originally sold those very T-shirts in L.A. Pretty sure it happened on the _Permanent Vacation_ tour."

This time his smile turned almost to a smirk. "Another reason to thank those boys from Boston."

Their eyes locked until they were interrupted by Edward's cell.

"S'cuse me." He stood and walked into the dining room, putting his phone to his ear. "Morning."

Isabella finished the last few bites of her pancakes and guzzled the rest of her juice. After rinsing her dish, she grabbed another slice of bacon for the road and topped off her coffee. She followed Edward's voice into the main living room.

"Yes. I think she's fine; she _seems_ fine." He twisted around when she accidentally kicked the ottoman with her foot. He gave her a pinched smile and pulled the phone from his mouth. "Felix wants to know how your hand is. He didn't trust my answer."

"Oh, yeah." She waved her hand, dismissing him and taking a seat on the couch. "It's pretty tender. Tell him I took a couple more Tylenol before I came down to breakfast."

He nodded. "Didja hear that?" More silence. "Okay, yeah. Mhmmm, thank you, _Mom." _Another pause. "Yup. Okay. Talk to you later." He ended the call and found her gaze again. "Sorry about that. He wanted to check up on us after the wine glass incident from last night."

"Ahh." She smiled. "Glad he's on his game even across the pond."

He chuckled, falling into the opposite end of the couch. "That he is."

Silence descended between them. As Isabella took a few sips from her coffee, she watched Edward pick at the fraying edge on the bottom seam of his jeans. She worried about starting this conversation, though it seemed so ludicrous. When she got paid to be a conversationalist both in and out of the bedroom, she could pull topics out of a hat and make even a brick wall feel desired with her attentive nature.

Here, however, with the person who now counted most in her life, she had an acute case of stage fright.

She decided to close her eyes and go for it. He came out of his room to try for her; the time had arrived to start clearing the air.

"So, can I say a few things? I'm sorry that I was a bit out of control last night. I don't normally get . . ."

"Drunk?" He smirked, filling in the blank for her.

"Yeah, I mean, I would've said tipsy, but between breaking glasses and headaches—"

"And me having to put you to bed."

"And that." She raised her palm to him, agreeing. "Anyway, I'm sorry for any trouble you went to last night."

He stared back at her, his mouth hinting at a faint smile. "It was no trouble."

Her grin mirrored his, so she nodded once and folded her legs, tucking them under her. "I'm aware—I think—of what I said last night."

"Okay."

"And I just wanted you to know that it wasn't the wine talking." She bit the inside of her cheek and took the plunge. "I do miss you. I have for a while. And it's not just been these last few weeks since you guys rescued me that night. Even when I reached my angriest over all these months, I still missed you, Edward."

Isabella studied him as he slowly raised and lowered his brows, before turning toward her and propping his left leg across his right knee. When he didn't immediately respond, she decided to press forward.

"If I can go back to the beginning . . . a combination of shock, fear and ultimately anger led to me storming up to your place the day I learned you'd bought the company."

His gaze met hers and he nodded stoically.

"I think I never knew you had it in you," she admitted.

"Meaning?"

"Meaning—meaning that you could do something so purposely hurtful. I mean, we both know that you knew why I was marrying Carlisle."

"Refresh my memory?"

She rolled her eyes, sighing. "Edward."

"Look, I'm not trying to start a fight." His voice sounded commanding, but not biting. "We need to talk about this, and if we're going hash through all this sordid shit, we need to get it out, and I mean_ all _of it." He shook his head. "We've got nothing but time on our hands, and me hiding in my room to avoid the discomfort of hearing about all your choices isn't going to make this go away, let alone fix what's broken between us. Because, yeah, I miss you too, Isabella. More than you can ever imagine." He tipped his head downward until his stare met her lowered gaze. "I'm out of my room, here in the daylight with the fresh air blowing. I'm here for you, and I want to do this right."

Her eyes welled with tears at the warmth in his gaze, allowing her to tap into her well of courage. Knowing this would be painful but hopefully cathartic and worthwhile in the end, she jumped in feet first.

"Okay. Well, to answer your question, I married Carlisle because he was a billionaire, plain and simple. He had lobbyists and politicians clamoring for his attention, his endorsements, his cash . . . anytime he wrote a check, there were suddenly a dozen high-ranking officials at his beck and call." She cleared her throat, knowing full disclosure would be the only way she and Edward could get to the root of their problem. "I wanted that money and power for myself. That's the long and short of it. I studied Carlisle for several months before I approached him at a party for Governor McAfee. Cullen's name had been brought up at a planning meeting in Jasper's office once. Later that night, Jasper pulled me aside and said that if I made a miracle happen with Carlisle, he'd take me with him when he made it to the presidency."

"And you believed him?"

"I wanted to. It was the only time in my post-graduate life that I worried about closing a deal."

"Why were you worried?" Edward pinched his eyes shut, seeming pained by the upcoming topic. "Hadn't you already been . . . sleeping . . . with different men at that point?"

Isabella looked away, shamed to have to admit all of her transgressions. "Just a few of the professors."

"_Just_ a few of the professors," Edward parroted and tilted his head back on the couch. "Don't tell me who; I can probably guess at this point. And let me stop you for a second." He leaned toward her on the couch. "Please don't feel like you have to catalog every moment you were away from my presence." He dragged his fingers back and forth across his forehead. "This isn't about you flaying yourself for my satisfaction. I just want us to get to a place where we can be in the same room without the veil of animosity, dishonesty or hidden skeletons."

"I know that. And I don't think I could stomach telling you what I've done over the years. But I want you to know what motivated me to do some of the . . . things I did."

Edward shook his head in defeat. "If you think it'll help."

"It might not help, but it's who I am, and it'll at least give you some insight."

His stare pierced her. She could tell he wanted to be anywhere but in this moment with her, but at least it would offer him some clue as to where her path to self-destruction first formed.

"Well, I've told you about my mom; she's a flake, just wanting to enjoy life. Nothing too heavy, everything's always breezy."

"Yes."

"So, when I was eleven, she'd been waiting tables at a diner down the road from our apartment. I recall a particular late night, almost my bedtime; she told me she would be going out for a pack of cigarettes and then heading to work the third shift." Isabella stared through the bay window at Mount Vesuvius in the distance. "She'd done it numerous times before, so I didn't think anything of it. I'd been finishing my homework and planning to crawl into bed soon after. Anyway, when I got up for school the next day, she wasn't home yet. But again, it didn't faze me because on several occasions she would stay on for a day shift, or just cover for somebody for a few additional hours."

His eyes narrowed, maybe trying to figure out where she headed with her topic. "What happened to you?"

She shrugged. "Nothing." Through a watery smile, tears pooled in her eyes. "Absolutely nothing happened to me. She disappeared, but I made myself breakfast, lunch and dinner every day, got off to school safely, did my homework, took my showers . . . it was as if I never needed her at all. All the times I'd been craving the structure that she never gave me, and I realized I created the structure all on my own; I had for years. I didn't need her . . . didn't need _anybody_. As long as I stayed in control, I had all the power to make things happen the way I wanted them to happen. I had a fucking revelation at eleven years old."

Edward looked as if he was trying to figure out the square root of the United States Gross National Product.

"So, she just abandoned you? For how long?"

Isabella shrugged, an odd grin creeping onto her face. "Almost ten days."

"Where the fuck was she, and how did she not get arrested?"

"She traveled on a Phish Tour." Isabella chuckled, threading her fingers through her hair and pulling it back into a rubber band.

"Your mother ditched you for almost two weeks to go hang out with stoners half her age?"

"Pretty much, but don't you see? That's when I knew that it didn't matter what other people did to me or didn't do; _I_ was in charge." She stabbed her finger at her chest. "And as long as _I_ stayed in charge of my little piece of the world, I would be fine."

"So what happened when she got back?"

"I hugged her. Told her I was glad she came home safely. But, Edward"—she shook her head—"I wasn't really angry. On a basic level, yes, it upset me that she didn't tell me where she planned to go, and no eleven-year-old should live on her own for two weeks . . . but at the same time, I felt like the universe gave me my first test then, and I passed with flying colors. I knew I'd never rely on her again, and I was okay with that. And honestly, she seemed a little relieved. She knew how different we were. For all the years I thought she was a complete ditz, she was just crazy like a fox." Isabella chuckled through her explanation. "She knew she couldn't change me, so instead she wanted to help me prove to myself that I could do it."

"Pretty sure Child Protective Services would disagree with you there."

Isabella huffed. "Yeah, I'm sure they would too, but it happened and I survived. Once I left for college, I knew I would never go back home. I've always cared about my mom, but I've never needed her. It's why I said what I did to you that morning that I left. I've never needed anybody."

"It's okay to need things, though. To want to rely on something other than yourself."

A sad smile curled toward the side of her mouth. "In my warped mind—up until very recently—no, it wasn't."

Edward puffed out his cheeks through a hard breath, nodding. Isabella hoped he accepted her explanation. Irrational as it may seem to someone else, she told her truth.

"Anyway, she pulled that stunt periodically from then on until I got accepted here at Texas. She could only be her version of a mom. June Cleaver would've had a stroke, but somehow I accepted the differences between us and let it be. We're very different people; I don't hold it against her.

"So, in my head, the only way to do well is to be fully in control. I had to hold all the cards or else I couldn't trust that I would end up in the best hands. Does that make any sense?"

Edward shrugged. "I mean, I understand where this might have taken root. I just don't know how you being independent enough to be in control of your destiny turned into ruthless desperation to gain as much wealth, success and power as possible and damn everyone else who got in your way."

Isabella picked at her fingernails, mulling over Edward's vivid words. He wasn't wrong. He was completely on target. But it stung like a bitch.

"Anyone is allowed to strive for his or her personal best . . . but to me, it seemed like you were overtaken by a viscous lust for greed. Am—am I wrong? I don't want to start a fight with you . . ." Edward found Isabella's hard stare. "I mean, what did you think when you met me? I didn't see this in you when you first started coming around with my school work."

"You're right. I wasn't always like this. But once I realized that my body could get me even further than my natural intelligence could, I lost sight of the striving for excellence aspect, and the hunger for the bigger prize became my aim. It was no longer about the pride in achieving a goal, but instead about the constant need for more." She shifted on the couch, bringing her knees up to her chin.

Edward glanced around the room as if trying to find the right words. "I wish I'd told you how I felt about you sooner." His confession bolstered her to continue.

"When I was with you, I let all that ugliness slip away . . . I would've never admitted it at the time, but I experienced such comfort being at your home, far removed from my mental and physical grind to get it all." She turned to face him while two tears fell from her eyes. "You didn't put me on edge. Didn't make me feel like I had to be on high alert for anyone else who might step in and outbid me, gain more." She squinted, trying to find the logic in her once-warped mind. "I might've thought you were a coward by staying locked up in your quiet, dark world, but in reality, it was where I felt safest. Knowing I didn't have to compete. Knowing that two and a half days a month, I felt warmed, respected," she reflected, turning away, "cared for."

Edward held his head in his hands. Isabella felt too afraid to look back to see the pain she caused him. She hadn't aimed to emotionally eviscerate either of them, but it seemed unavoidable.

"Why? Why didn't you ever say this to me?" The agony in his voice sickened her.

She swept her palms across her cheeks and grabbed a cigarette from her open pack on the end table.

"I was terrified, Edward. I never needed anything in my life, but I lived for those weekends of ours, filled with nothing but contentment and peace. I couldn't admit it out loud, though. I wouldn't. For as satisfied as I felt on a Sunday afternoon with you, driving back to Dallas on a Sunday evening would be a harsh dose of brain bleach. I'd snap out of that simple mindset and realize that I needed to be my own success story. Allowing myself to get complacent with you would only lead to disaster."

He huffed, smacking his hands on his thighs. "Well, I'm glad I never asked you to stay for longer. The way you're talking now, you would've performed violent acts of self-flagellation!" He bolted off the couch, muttering curses. Isabella stayed silent while she let her last confession hang in the air.

Edward appeared to calm himself, crossing his arms and resting them on top of his head. "You must've thought I was such a fool when I told you I had feelings for you back in February."

"I never thought you were a fool," she whispered while another tear made a trail to her neck, "but I knew things were going to blow up in our faces. It terrified me. I wasn't prepared to lose you."

"You didn't have to."

She swallowed the lump in her throat, hearing his sincerity. Knowing it was too late.

"I could say that hindsight is twenty-twenty—"

He interrupted. "Sounds like even if I had convinced you that there were a better alternative to the path you chose, you would've walked away from me anyway."

Isabella lit the cigarette and got up, walking toward the open patio door. Moving on from the emotional aspect made the talk more clinical, easier to get through. "Yeah, you're right. One hundred percent. I wanted it. Wanted the money, the prestige, people catering to me. Even when my personal accounts tipped over the seven figures mark, it wasn't enough. I guess the ambition to get control of as much capital and political sway ended up overriding any shred of humility I might've possessed. When Carlisle asked me to marry him, it all came together. Plus he was sick . . . the company would be mine, or most of it, at least, and I wasn't even going to have to wait." She shook her head and took a drag. "Then after he died, I got the letter he wrote, telling me he'd sold it."

Edward's eyes widened. "I hadn't realized you found out in a letter."

"At the reading of his will." She chuckled, tossing her lighter on the lounge chair. "I thought Emmett would blow a gasket."

"His son? He's a tremendous businessman. Aside from him being a philanderer, I've been quite impressed with his performance."

"Emmett's a good guy." She pushed herself off the door jamb. "His wife's a tight ass, but . . . well, yeah. Anyway, finding out I'd inherited nowhere near what I expected knocked the wind out of me."

"I didn't low-ball your husband. The economy isn't in terrific shape. I offered a fair price, not necessarily competitive, but fair enough." Edward walked to the doorway where Isabella stood. "He accepted within a few hours. If he thought my offer wasn't worth it, he would've either squabbled over the price or walked away entirely."

"You're right. During the time that I spent with him, he seemed to care very little about money. Just wanted to be happy."

"Sounds like your husband was a decent man."

"A very decent man who had no idea the girl he married was a liar. Carlisle had only goodness in his heart, and he embraced everything I gave him. Believed me when I said I stopped seeing other . . . _clients_." She swiped another tear that escaped. "Finding out he'd sold the company without my knowledge ended up being my penance; I know that now. To lose out on everything I thought I would gain in his death."

Edward folded his arms across his chest. "Lose out? With his assets and your half of the cash left to you from the sale of the company? I mean, how much more did you want?"

"I don't even know anymore." She felt disgusted, hearing her own blatant stupidity. "I'm sure if you asked me four months ago, I'd be able to show you spreadsheets and pie charts detailing how the money would be used to get me to the top, to say nothing of the fact that I'd have control over all the decisions. But now—for the life of me—I can't remember the rage or even the logic behind any of it. When I told Jasper we'd lost Carlisle's company, I never expected him to say our scheme was over. Talk about blindsided; I never gave Peter enough credit."

She flicked her ashes into her mug of cold coffee and fell back into the couch. "And then of course the ultimate twist in all of this is that I don't have access to anything anymore. Whatever I stashed in the bank was frozen two seconds after I got arrested, and my off-shore accounts are probably being watched by authorities and maybe even the people who are after me." Chuckling sarcastically, she continued. "I went from having more than I could've ever imagined to having next to nothing . . . money-wise, at least. Anyway, that's my tale. I needed to have it all just because I felt I should." She shrugged. "There were no Daddy issues, I wasn't a starved and abused child; I just discovered what using my mind and body could get me and I did it. It's harsh, but it's the God's honest truth."

Edward leaned against the propped-open patio door. The only sound heard in the villa came from the marina several blocks away, where a few boats tooted their horns.

Isabella felt sick waiting for him to speak. This dread felt worse than when she sat at the bargaining table with the Feds, waiting to hear what her testimony would be worth and what amount of debt she'd still owe society.

No, this moment with Edward was infinitely more life changing. He was judge, jury and executioner. Every word she confessed to this man, both ugly and heartfelt, was an intricate piece to her puzzle. Coming clean with him felt as if she held a dusty and neglected mirror up to view her reflection.

Edward broke their eerie silence by clearing his throat. "Wow." He sighed. "Well, I know that couldn't have been easy, but thank you for your honesty."

"You're welcome." Isabella watched him move back to the couch, taking his seat next to her again.

When she made eye contact with him, the sincerity of his thanks seemed evident. They needed to clean their slates, and for as emotionally exhausting as this session had proven to be, a feeling of peace settled around them. For that, she was extraordinarily relieved.

He rubbed circles around his closed eyelids and hummed before shifting his body to face her. She watched him breathe deeply and assumed he was trying to calm himself down. When he opened his eyes, he focused on her, nodding with a whisper, "Okay. My turn."

* * *

**A/N: Abundant thanks as always to my Pre_GREED_ers (ha!): Lay, Hoodie, Born, and Cejsmom. My lovely Momo has been enjoying some well-deserved time off on a far-away vacation, so I was lucky enough to snag the fantastic talents of Rachel Kitchmill Fanfic to beta this chapter. Thanks for saving my grammarly-neck, my dear!**

**And as always, much love and thanks to my supportive readers and those who leave me their thoughts along the way. I appreciate your presence more than you'll ever know!**

**Thanks for reading. See you again next Sunday. **

**xo, Jen**


	17. Chapter 17

**$GREED$**

"_Okay, my turn." _

Edward took a cleansing breath, as Dr. Banner had told him to do whenever he felt his anxiety kick into high gear. Isabella had just poured her heart out and exposed herself, warts and all; he needed to be honest in regard to everything that had transpired between them. He owed her that much. "Is there anything you want to know before I give you my side of things?"

Isabella brought her knees up to her chin again, this time stretching her burnt orange Longhorn T-shirt over her legs. She shook her head. "If there's stuff about your life from before we met that you want to fill in, you can. But this is your show. Just . . . tell me what's on your mind."

He nodded. "I guess I want to jump right in with how I felt when I first met you."

Her eyes widened.

"Sorry if that took you by surprise," he said with a chuckle. "But, aside from Felix, my life pretty much revolved around my work and you for the last three years."

This time Isabella drew a deep breath. "'Kay."

"For the first three years of school, I used the same kid as my messenger. When I found out he planned to transfer out of the department, I requested another male. You can imagine my surprise the afternoon you showed up."

Isabella attempted to hide a smile. "Why did you want a guy?"

"Didn't want the hassle of dealing with a female." He scrunched up his nose. "Girls tend to be nosy."

"Well, how would you know if the same kid was your messenger from freshman through junior years?" she teased.

He couldn't hide his smirk. "Because three busy-body girls tried in the first month, and I realized my grave error."

"Three?" She giggled. "Okay, there's _got_ to be a story in there, and hello? Our department? Were they all from our major?"

He tented his hands at his nose and groaned a yes as she squeaked, "Now you've _gotta _give up the goods!"

Edward rolled his eyes, amused and thankful for the moment of mirth. He thought back. "Umm, okay, the first girl was Jessica."

Isabella squinted to look back into her memory. "Stanley?"

"Mhmm. Spoke a mile a minute and smelled like cake mix? Yeah, she lasted two days before asking if I was a serial killer because the lights were off. So that was the end of her." He shuddered at the memory while Isabella buried her hands in her face with a squeal.

"You are so right. It was like Betty Crocker walked into class every day!" Isabella settled down and lifted her hand for him to continue.

"The second girl was Lauren Mallory. She clicked her gum in the most obnoxious way like she had a mouth full of Pop Rocks. Drove me nuts. Plus, she kept reaching out to rub my arm like we were buddies, oh, and asking if I had a girl in the back bedroom because—_again_—all the lights were out." He shifted in his seat. "Then, the final straw came with Irina Kinski. The first time she showed up, the girl pretty much eye-fucked me, for lack of a better term. Later that week when she came back, she had on nothing but a black negligee."

"What?" Isabella cackled. "And she walked through the lobby like that?"

"No, I found her jacket on the floor of the vestibule outside my door." Edward's embarrassment was eased by Isabella's uncontrollable laughter. "It took me about ten seconds to snap out of my stupor before I not so politely kicked her out." He shook his head. "After that, I told the dean I'd make it worth the school's while if he found a male messenger who wasn't certifiable."

"And then I came along with my double x chromosomes and ruined your streak of sanity."

Edward snorted, rubbing his eyebrow. "Definitely a life ruiner." He looked up after his Freudian-not-such-a-slip and found her wandering gaze before clarifying, "Mostly in a good way."

Figuring her responding tight smile was better than nothing, he pressed on.

"You were . . . different. You didn't go peeking around corners. Never made outlandish accusations or treated me like I was a reject—at least not in my presence."

The sincerity in her eyes leveled him, as always. "I never thought you were a reject." She cocked her head with a faint smile. "I won't deny that the sleeve behind the door had me intrigued, and if I can cut off my nose once again, you were handing me a hundred dollars every time I showed up at your door. I was beyond broke during college. I wasn't about to pass judgment on a guy who was paying me to walk four blocks twice a week." She raised her eyebrows, shaking her head. "Once a greedy whore, always a greedy whore and all."

Edward's eyes narrowed. He loathed when she put herself down. Yes, today was about honesty, and her truths weren't pretty, but something had to give eventually.

"Stop. We're done with the incessant self-mutilation of your psyche. Please," he implored, slowly shaking his head and reaching out to calm her bouncing knee. "For me? I know you'll want to beat yourself up until the end of time, but while we're together, at least during this talk, can you back off on the whore-talk? That's not you. Not anymore."

Whether she agreed with his loftier view of her or not, she nodded once, allowing him to continue.

"As I was saying, you were inquisitive, but not rude. Talkative, but not a chatterbox. Sweet, but not fake. That's why I eventually came out from behind the door. Those other girls demanded my presence; I was forced to step out and show them my face, but with you . . ." He shrugged, making eye contact while smiling. "With you, I wanted to see _you_. Wanted _you_ to see me."

"Wow." Isabella's response could only be described as happily stunned.

"Anyway, I looked forward to you coming around on Sundays and Thursdays. After that night at the end of the summer semester, when I finally got up the nerve to ask if you wanted to stay for dinner, sharing stuff about my life and wanting to know more about yours became easier every day. Studying together was a novelty I grew to rely on. I knew my feelings for you went way beyond basic friendship after our first Christmas together."

Isabella's eyes twinkled. Hoping he'd sparked a memory that was significant to her as well, he questioned, "Remember what we did?"

"You mean eating Chinese while I forced you to watch a twenty-four-hour marathon of _A Christmas Story_ on my laptop?"

Edward snickered. "Yes, you schooled me on all things Ralphie and then _triple dog dared_ me to plug in the tabletop Christmas tree you bought for our celebration. Oh, and don't forget the silver garland boa you insisted on prancing around in all evening."

He caught her wistful gaze again, finding her eyes glassy. "It was a good night," she whispered while picking at the seam on the couch cushion.

"It was." He nodded and stood, walking to the bay window to take in the view of the glistening water below. "Anyway, after that, I knew I wanted to spend as much time with you as possible. Wanted to know where you were and how you spent your time outside of those two afternoons in my apartment, but I was too shy to broach the subject, too fearful of your answer." He turned to face her, attempting to gulp down the boulder in his throat. "That's when I hired the detective to follow you."

She withdrew her stare and looked down toward the floor, a huff escaping. "I hadn't realized it happened during school." The gleeful timbre in her voice from their earlier lightheartedness had vanished.

"It was actually the middle of spring semester before we graduated. When I suggested over Spring Break that we go into business together."

Isabella looked off in the distance before addressing him again. "Did—did you do it to punish me?" She shrugged, her voice small. "I mean, you didn't like my answer so you did the next best thing?"

"Essentially." His whispered response was full of remorse, but he owned it nonetheless. There was no sense in trying to dress it up. It was an unbecoming truth, just as ugly as hers. "After you turned down the idea of a business venture, coupled with hearing you say you were taking a job with Whitlock in Dallas . . . I couldn't stand the thought that someone else would get _my_ two afternoons a week. That I wouldn't see you anymore." He rubbed his hands across his lips and scratched down his stubbled cheek. "I needed to have eyes on you. Even if they couldn't be mine."

Isabella blew out a hard breath and buried her face in her hands. Edward knew what he had to say would only get worse, so he trudged forward to pile on the shit.

"My guy followed you for two weeks before reporting back to me for the first time. He told me who you'd met up with in public places . . . private ones." He glanced away. "Showed me pictures . . ."

"Pictures!" she shrieked, her head snapping up at him. "Jesus, Edward! What did you see? Do I even want to know?" She waved her hands. "No, scratch that; don't tell me." She wrapped her arms around her stomach while her legs flopped to the floor.

"Once I learned that you kept company with some of the dregs of society, along with the upper crust, I knew I wanted Felix to be near you in case the worst happened." He palmed his forehead while his fingers dug into his temples.

"So, it wasn't enough that you had Felix looking out for me, you continued to keep that P.I. on payroll just so you'd know where I was going and who I was . . . _with_?"

"Yes." Clenching his teeth, Edward elaborated, "Call it jealousy; call it greed. Bottom line is that it drove me mad that those other men had you and your time all because they had public positions of power and status along with money to throw away. My choices have kept me inside, _and_ I have more money than I can count, yet it didn't mean shit if you weren't next to me."

Isabella pulled her fingers through her hair, blankly staring beyond Edward. "Why didn't you ever tell me how you felt? Why did it take you almost three years to confess your feelings?"

"Would it have made a difference? Be honest." He folded his arms across his chest, his fist at his mouth, waiting.

"I doubt it." Her confession didn't surprise either of them. It seemed an impasse was unavoidable.

"That's what I figured. I mean, I went for broke with my feelings the night we . . . well, that night back in February. If I couldn't convince you to stay after _that_, I knew there wasn't much of a chance you would've stayed any other time. I changed the rules of our friendship game halfway through . . . I get that. But I still didn't like the result."

"I'm so sorry, Edward. I know it doesn't mean much now, almost eight months later. But it was never my intention to hurt you. You _have_ to know that. When we . . ." She pulled her bottom lip into her mouth, shaking her head. "It meant a lot to me, but the timing—it couldn't have been worse. What happened was so unexpected, I knew it would change everything."

"I_ wanted_ it to change everything." Sadness tugged in his gut at the memory. "I fell asleep thinking it had, and then the next morning happened."

Her eyes widened. "Yeah, you paid me."

"Because it ended up,_ I_ ended up being just another job, right?" Just like that, his sadness transformed to anger.

Her head cocked back with her retort. "I never in a billion years would've _charged_ you. That was _your_ cruel checkmate! It just wasn't that way for me."

"Well then, how was it?" Edward couldn't mask his doubt. "I handed you three grand, and you walked away without saying a word. I was a satisfied customer, and I figured you should be compensated. With you standing at the door, bag over your shoulder"—he widened his arms—"I wasn't about to romanticize it and humiliate myself further. I told you how I felt; you rejected me; I paid you. Am I missing something?"

He hadn't meant for his words to come out as harshly as they did, but he could feel his blood pressure rising. Remembering that hollow feeling—when he rolled over to reach for her and instead found her dressed and packing—it was anguish on a level he'd never experienced up until that point in his life.

"No, that's pretty much the way it happened." She sighed. "And I know you've convinced yourself about my lack of feelings for you, but you're wrong. I made a mistake in the words I chose that morning."

"Which words were those?"

"When I told you that our night together meant nothing." Dropping her shoulders, she repeated the lie from all those months ago.

"Ahh, yes, a sweet song in my ear." His sarcasm couldn't be contained; this reopened wound exposed emotions as raw as they were on that day.

"I didn't mean it how it came out." Isabella fidgeted on the sofa. "I should've said that our night together didn't _change _anything. It couldn't . . . not if I needed to pursue my goal."

"Of getting to Pennsylvania Avenue as the mistress of the President? Isabella, you are so smart . . . _so _fucking smart. How did you ever think this was going to work out well for you?"

Her head fell back on the couch. "I don't know, Edward. I've ripped my life's decisions apart and pieced them back together a thousand times since that day it all came crashing down around me. All I can tell you is while I was in the midst of the affair with Jasper, I believed that we'd make it."

"Were you in love with him?"

"No." She stared at the ceiling.

"Were you in love with Cullen?"

She tipped her head from side to side, pondering. "I cared about him. He was a kind man."

"But you're not sure if you loved him."

"I'm not sure I love myself, let alone have the ability to love anyone else . . . how's that for fucked up?" Isabella smacked her hands on the couch and faced him. "I mean, are you sure what you felt for_ me_ was love?"

"Felt, _feel_ . . . why do you assume any of this is past tense?" The volume of his voice grew with each word he delivered.

Her jaw dropped, but Edward wasn't sure if it was due to his unplanned confession or something else.

"Why did you really pay me that money?" she delved.

"Because you broke my fucking heart!" Flailing his arms toward the ceiling, he spun as the boom of his voice echoed off the walls. "And if you were going to act like a hooker, I was going to treat you like one! You fucked me; I paid you!"

"Would you take it back if you could?"

"What, the cash? Yes, I'd take it back and not because you didn't earn it." He winced. "I'm sorry that sounds so brutal, but yes, I'd take it back if it meant I could have had the chance to fight for you." He hung his head, digging his hands into his hips. A spot on the floor held his attention for a few seconds before locking their gazes once more. "Don't you get that I would've done _anything_ to prove that I should've been the one you came home to? That I would've loved you bigger than any celebrity, louder than any crowd of spectators, brighter than any spotlight you would've hoped to find yourself in?" He poked at his chest. "It _gutted_ me that I never had that chance." After finding the last of his courageous declarations in the stucco of the ceiling, he lowered his head to refocus on her. "I wanted it to be me, and I couldn't imagine any circumstance how that would change."

It seemed as if neither of them breathed for several seconds. Edward's last profession left the air pregnant with promise and possibility. But was it all too little, too late?

Exasperated, Edward marched back to the couch and sat down again. "I need to finish telling you my side of things."

She nodded and angled herself to give him her full attention.

"After you left I was . . . destroyed, to be frank. You were the first person aside from Felix I _ever_ allowed myself to open up to. And you walked away so easily; it devastated me." He shook his head. "I canceled all my online meetings and conference calls. Refused any correspondence that came my way. I barely spoke to Felix . . ." he trailed off. "It wasn't a good time. I'm sure any expert would say that my lifestyle—in general—isn't considered healthy, but my behavior after that scene with you went way beyond unhealthy, even for me."

Isabella looked at her hands as a tear fell from her eye.

"There's a part that I don't think you know, though." Edward closed his eyes, steeling himself. He knew what was coming would blindside her. "You said you learned in a letter that your husband had sold the company. Did he tell you when?"

Isabella's gaze darted around the room. "I don't remember the exact words he used. I remember him writing that after his first wife had died, he couldn't find it within himself to be so ruthless and cutthroat about money and business decisions. He'd lost his shark-like ambition, which was why he decided to sell the company."

Edward nodded. "When the investigator told me you started spending so much time with Cullen, I learned all I could about him. I knew his heart wasn't in the business anymore. Heard he'd been fielding offers the year before." He exhaled, bolstering himself for further confessions. "I also had him followed. When I discovered he was sick, it planted a seed. I thought about my options, how I felt about you and how I knew I needed to confess my feelings; that's when I approached him with my offer."

Isabella tilted away from Edward. "I don't—" She cut herself off with a shake of her head.

"Though the paperwork hadn't been signed yet, Cullen accepted my offer at the beginning of February. We had a gentlemen's agreement that we'd wait until he finished honeymooning before the official transaction took place. He technically sold it to me before you went away together," he whispered, feeling his cheeks burn with guilt.

Her eyes grew wide. "You knew he was going to propose?"

"He told me he intended to propose and hoped you'd accept, marry and honeymoon with him all on that one trip to St. Maarten."

"Is that why you poured your heart out that night?" She jumped off of the couch, spinning to face him again. "What? Was it all some kind of test? My god, did you even mean any of the things you said to me?"

A wave of heat flashed through his body, his hands turned clammy and his stomach churned as he grabbed for her retreating body, terrified she'd bolt from the room altogether. She remained just out of his reach, though. "Of _course_ I meant every word I said. But I'd hoped for a different outcome. If you'd returned my feelings and stayed with me, I would've told you I bought the oil company and you'd never have to sell your body again. We—"

"How,_ how_ could you stand there and say all those awful words to me the day I learned about the sale, knowing you'd been so devious months earlier? Carlisle selling the company to anyone else would've made me lose out on the power and control of being the owner—I know that—but at least it would've been an honest transaction!" Tears streamed down her face. "But, you played on his weakened ambitions? His _sickness_?" she hissed. "You played on my need to be on top of it all." Her hands went to her hair, pulling at the strands. "My god . . . I . . . I . . ." She looked everywhere but at him. "I mean, I know I was greedy and despicable in my actions, but I never—"

"Never thought I might've been exactly like you?" Edward blanched, listening to the horrific irony of his words. His head hung low while he leaned forward with his elbows planted in his thighs. He felt shredded, revolted by his confessions.

"Yeah," she choked out through a sob. She leaned against the wall, her eyes closed with her head tilted back. Tears continued to leave streaks down her cheeks.

Edward got up from the sofa and walked with trepidation toward Isabella. He watched her chest rise and fall as she tried to calm herself from the latest round of truth-telling. There wasn't much he could say. Up until today she knew he bought the company, but she didn't know how meticulously he'd planned and executed everything. All because he couldn't have her. Jealousy-fueled, a sore loser at his most desperate.

"I don't even know where to begin with the apologies for this spectacular disaster. I've had more than enough time to stew over what I've done, and all I can say is that my actions were reprehensible." He knocked his head back on the framed molding around the window. They stood there together, slumped against the wall in admitted defeat. Two broken people, each in desperate need of mercy from the other. "I'm certain what I just revealed has probably changed how you look at me, and I'm sickened."

After several seconds, she readjusted her stance to make tear-filled eye contact. "Did my earlier confessions change how you look at me?"

"Never." He stared back at her, his chest tightening again.

"You said you kept my light on?"

Her question seemed to come from nowhere, and it startled him, but he regained his focus. "From the moment you walked out that door after our night together." He cleared his emotion-riddled throat. "It was my only connection to you. It stayed on until the night you came home with me after we found you in Lockhart. I only turned it off then because you needed a safe and sound night's rest."

She reached for his hand and slipped her fingers through his. "Can you come with me to my room?" she whispered. "I need to show you something."

He nodded and followed her up the stairs, their hands still clasped. His heart was pounding beneath his ribs. With the exception of the sounds of their feet shuffling up the stairs, all Edward could hear was the _whoosh _of blood rushing through his ears.

He stood against her bedroom door, observing as she dug through the bottom drawer of her nightstand. She paused for a moment before she pulled an envelope from within a simple marble composition notebook.

In her hand sat a letter-size envelope that looked wrinkled and war-torn.

She approached slowly, holding the envelope to her chest, and stood before him as she turned it over in her hands. He stared down at his penmanship. Elegant script spelled out _Isabella Swan._ He cast his gaze to her eyes when she lifted the unsealed flap and slipped out what must've been dozens of hundred dollar bills.

"What is this?"

"It's three thousand dollars." Her voice shook. "The same three thousand you placed in my hand that morning."

"What?" Astonished, he realized what she was saying.

"It was the last connection I had to _you_. And I wasn't about to get rid of it. I'd saved one of your old envelopes you used back when I messengered for you and kept the money safe in there. Even when I was in hiding, I had this with me." She gripped the envelope and its contents tightly in her right hand.

He huffed, more than stunned by her admission. He found himself fighting back a smile even in their abyss of sadness over all the lost time, bitter words hurled while the heartfelt ones were left unsaid.

"So, we always kept a piece of each other, even after we'd been hurt to the point of ending our friendship."

"It would seem so." She took a deep breath and stepped back. "I—I just thought you should see it for yourself. My track record is appalling, but I needed you to see that I_ never_ pitied you. And I never did _anything _I didn't want to do. My life has overflowed with mistakes and disgusting deeds, but I was proud of my relationship with you. And I_ always_ treasured it, especially our one night together." Another tear fell. "Even in my darkest moments, I couldn't bear parting with my last tie to you."

"Well, aren't we quite the pair?" His mind was swimming with all the stories he'd told and heard today. It was almost too much, and he felt the need to lie down, but he hated breaking their moment of tenderness. "If you don't mind, I need to rest for a bit. Being in the light for the last couple of hours has brought on a headache."

"Oh, I understand." She stepped back but he stepped toward her.

"But, umm, if you wouldn't be opposed, can I join you tonight for dinner on the patio? Maybe even take in some fireworks?"

A smile played at her lips while a fresh pool of tears brimmed in her eyes. "I'd like that." She sat back on her bed and slipped her envelope back in the drawer. "So, I'll see you later tonight?"

He grinned and dipped his head, backing out of her room. "Tonight."

* * *

**A/N: I can't decide if this chapter or the next one is my favorite. **

**Much love and thanks to my pre_GREED_ers: Lay, Hoodie, Born and Cejsmom and my pinch-hitting beta Rachel Kitchmill Fanfic who stepped in again while Momo finished out her awesome vacation. Yummy hugs all around.**

**Thank you all so much for reading and especially those who take the time to leave their thoughts in a review. **

**xo, Jen**


	18. Chapter 18

**$GREED$**

"Need any help?"

Edward's deep voice startled Isabella, causing her to whirl around in surprise.

"Wow," she breathed out through a giggle. "Dinner's nowhere near ready. I—I didn't plan to go looking for you until I was ready to serve."

Unsure, he stepped back. "I mean, I can come back later if you—"

"Oh, no," her voice spoke over his. "Please stay. I was just getting my assembly line started."

Brow quirked, he approached the counter where she stood. "And what are we assembling this afternoon?"

"Eggplant parm?" She hedged, unsure of Edward's fondness for the dish. "Is that good with you?"

"God, yes!" He rolled up his sleeves to his elbows before turning on the faucet and soaping up his hands like a surgeon about to scrub in. "One of Felix's favorites. Whenever he'd make a pan for himself, he'd put one together for me as well. His trays of eggplant parm were perfection personified."

"Spoiled rotten." She smirked, nudging her shoulder against his.

"Definitely." When Edward's dimples appeared it sent a wave of peace washing over Isabella. They'd confessed all their sins to each other earlier in the day, and it drained them both in more ways than one. Their emotional upheaval paved the way for physical exhaustion to take over. After Edward had retreated to his room to rest, Isabella collapsed on her bed and slept for more than two hours. Somehow she woke without the familiar, heavy feeling in her chest where she carried her guilt and self-loathing.

_Maybe coming clean was the key all along?_

It thrilled her to be in the kitchen with him now, joking and tentatively stepping their way through uncharted, calmer waters. Mafia goons or political hit men aside, Isabella was thankful that she and Edward found some semblance of understanding and contentment . . . for however long it might last.

Snapping out of her trance of solace, she engaged him again. "Well, you're in luck because Felix left me his recipe. I figured if I wanted to fully embrace the fundamentals of being _Bianca Carbone_, I'd need to turn out some staples from an authentic Italian repertoire."

"Good plan, and I—as your fictional husband_, _of course_—_will absolutely enjoy taste-testing along the way." He waggled his brows while licking his lips, which did nothing to dampen the curious internal tugging she'd felt ever since his declaration earlier in the afternoon.

She loved that he'd kept his word from the night before and made himself more available around the villa today. It spoke volumes to his already honorable character. His actions alone showed that it didn't matter to Edward that he felt safer in quiet darkness and solitude. Isabella made a plea, and he put his comfort aside to fulfill her request. She longed to put into words how grateful she felt, but for now, she'd smile and joke and make him feel as at home as possible while they were six thousand miles from the only home he'd ever trusted.

Distracted from her cooking, she couldn't tear her eyes from watching Edward's open shirt sway at his hips as he stepped toward her. Still wearing his jeans, he'd traded in his black Aerosmith T-shirt for a white tee underneath a pale blue button down, left open for a laid-back look. Trying to put aside the nervous knot currently perfecting a clove hitch in her belly, she redirected Edward and herself to the display of ingredients.

"Okay, we'll go from the eggplant on the cutting board to the paper towel just to dab off any excess moisture from the slicing. Then they go into the egg wash." She pointed at the bowls lined up along the counter. "Then dip and coat it in breadcrumbs, and finally put it in the frying pan. Once the slice is crispy on both sides, we put it on the paper towel to soak up the oil."

He nodded. "Sounds easy enough." He looked across the spread. "So, am I the slicer or the dipper?"

Isabella had to suck in her cheeks, trying not to laugh at his job titles. "Well, I'm comfortable peeling and slicing up the rest of the eggplant. So, I guess that makes you the dipper."

He grabbed a fork and stabbed the thinly cut vegetable, pointing it at her. "Step aside, little lady. The big dipper is on the scene." He snorted at himself and proceeded to egg and bread the slices before placing them in the sizzling oil.

They worked in silence, exchanging glances laced with smiles from time to time. Isabella couldn't help but ruminate about all that they'd been through since they first met. A man she never gave a second thought to in the beginning became her closest friend. This alone made their fallout so painful. Her warped mentality and need to reach the top at any cost usurped the dedication she should've shown to her friendship with this man. The meticulous plans Edward set in motion after she'd hurt him were cold and calculating, but ultimately . . . she understood. She may not have liked hearing his ugly truth, but quite simply: his behavior reflected his pain. She had wanted money and power as much as Edward wanted . . . _her._ The concept was almost inconceivable. Nobody ever cared for her the way he'd described how he felt. And then he spoke as if his feelings have lingered, even after their self-destruction.

_If it isn't too late, would it be possible for me to feel the same way for him? _

She never had a problem feeling an attraction for Edward, not in the slightest. It didn't matter that he was quiet and brooding, living life behind the scenes. His piercing green eyes, the strong angle of his jaw, his defined physique . . . they all combined to make one hell of a gorgeous man. She remembered exercising with him every Saturday morning of their weekends together. He'd turned one of his guest bedrooms into a gym equipped with a treadmill, elliptical machine, punching bag, and a Bowflex machine that could be used to work out every major muscle group in the body. There were more than a few times when Edward innocently whipped off his shirt mid-workout, and Isabella managed to ogle him as inconspicuously as possible.

Yes, attraction _definitely_ wasn't the issue. She knew without a doubt that her biggest hang up would be understanding how Edward could ever want to be with her, knowing all she'd done, all the disgusting choices she'd made over the years. What would it take for either of them to reach a point where their past didn't matter?

Isabella feared it would be impossible. Probably best to just be thankful for a resurrected friendship and allow time to heal the wounds from gaping mistakes of their past. She needed to put all of these anxieties on a shelf for now. Worrying about step twenty-seven when they were only on step three was useless. Tonight they merely needed to conquer eggplant parmigiana on the patio at twilight. Edward dining outside would be a feat all on its own.

Once all the slices were browned and crispy, Isabella coated a baking dish in marinara sauce and started building her layers.

"Wait," –Edward grabbed one of the cooked pieces from her platter— "I need this one." He popped the vegetable in his mouth, stepping back and smiling through his chew. "Had to be done."

She snickered and continued to ladle sauce and place the slices of mozzarella over the blanket of eggplant.

"That looks divine." His voice crooned from behind her. "What's the next step?"

"Just cover it in foil and let the cheese melt while it bakes. It'll probably be ready to eat in a half hour or so."

After placing the baking dish in the oven, she stood and found Edward studying her. His hands shoved in the pockets of his jeans, he leaned against the refrigerator. She mirrored his position, tucking herself into the counter across from him.

"So, umm—"

"Well," they both started and stopped talking, wanting to hear what the other was about to say.

"Sorry," he whispered through a chuckle. "You go."

She lifted a shoulder. "Just wondering what you wanted to do while dinner is cooking?"

He smiled, taking a few seconds before he responded. "Scrabble?"

**$GREED$**

"So? Does it approximate Felix's famous pans of perfection?"

Edward brought his wine glass to his lips and sipped. She could see him grinning around the rim while she waited on pins and needles to hear his ruling on the matter.

"Oh, most definitely. I'd even go a step further and say it's better than what he shared with me in the past. Not only because it was made by you and me—rookies out of the gate—but also because we're dining in Italy," –he lifted his palm to the air— "there's red wine in our glasses, and it's all happening on a patio in the open air. The fact that I'm not breaking out in hives or breathing in a paper bag is alarming but fantastic."

They both laughed, but she understood the gravity of this simple step taken by Edward. It was certainly cause for celebration, and she hoped the Italians down in _Piazza Tasso_ would comply by illuminating the night and giving them another grand display.

The sky seemed to darken quickly once they'd finished their meal. Unless she convinced him to turn on some lights in the villa for an encore game of Scrabble, she assumed their "date" would soon be coming to an end.

"Thank you for dinner," she whispered, holding her wine glass out for a belated toast. "It was a delicious book end to what seemed like the start of a new chapter for us today . . . or at least . . . I hope it is."

Edward leaned forward and clinked his glass against hers. "To new chapters." He gave a hint of a smile, looking as if he were lost somewhere deep in thought. "Maybe even a new book." With a dip of his chin, he paused once more. "Salute."

The booming of fireworks interrupted their comfortable silence. She enjoyed the display, but even more so took pleasure in watching Edward's reaction while the show went on for the next fifteen minutes. He glanced over at her a couple of times and she smiled back, relishing the sight of the natural crinkles at his eyes when he was feeling genuinely happy.

For too long, it seemed both of them had been only faking it in order to muddle through each day. She hoped that today's catharsis would be the dawning of true happiness without any need to put on an act. The comfort and contentment would be real.

When the fireworks died off, Isabella cleared the remaining dessert dishes and wine glasses while Edward went around bolting doors and windows for the night. He waited in the foyer for Isabella to finish in the kitchen, and they walked upstairs side by side.

The pair reached her room first, and she paused in the doorway while he continued on a few steps and turned to glance back at her.

"Thank you again for today, Edward," she spoke, her voice quiet. "Thank you for coming out of your room and spending the day with me. I can probably count on one hand the truly good and selfless deeds I've done throughout my adult life, but you seem to have an infinite supply when it comes to me." She felt the emotions thickening in her throat. "Once more before we go to sleep, I just want to say I'm sorry, and I hope someday I can earn your forgiveness."

"Isabella—" He shook his head.

"No, wait a minute . . ." she held up her hand, talking over him. "Please, just let me get this out, I have to do this."

He pressed his lips together and leaned against the wall, appeasing her.

"I know earlier I told you how sorry I am for leaving you that morning in February, allowing you to believe the lie that you and our night together didn't mean anything. But beyond all of that, please let me apologize for my horrid behavior every moment since then." A shudder raced through her body. "When I saw you in the board room, at the hotel in Abilene, and then from the minute you and Felix came to get me in Lockhart, I've had a deplorable attitude and acted as though I'm ungrateful for all you've done for me, like I was entitled and your feelings and actions were useless to me." She swallowed tightly and looked straight into his eyes. "Hurling flippant comments, rolling my eyes, pouting like I'm the only one hurting . . . I know how wrong I was, Edward. You've put your life on hold, flipped it upside down, and stepped six thousand miles out of your comfort zone to save my neck. After everything you've done for me, even if you kept to yourself whenever possible, I should've been bending over backwards for you, practically groveling at your feet." She tented her hands over her mouth, pausing in pensive thought. "I can't take back who I was before, but my choices were never a personal attack on you. I had to survive the best way I knew how, just like you did. But when it comes to us, I owe you my life, and I don't know that I'll ever be able to reciprocate the kindness and infinite generosity you've granted me." She swiped at her tear-soaked cheek. "I just hope someday you'll be able to truly forgive me."

"You don't have to keep apologizing," he replied. "I confessed to some pretty disgusting things today, too, you know. And_ I_ appreciate that you didn't run screaming from the villa." Huffing, Edward rubbed the side of his neck. "As for earning forgiveness, I think it goes both ways, don't you?" He stepped a little closer. "I mean, I_ knew_ what you were doing all those years and yeah, it hurt like hell . . . but you had no idea what I was capable of until I came clean today. I need just as much clemency from you, maybe more."

Silence filled the gap for a few seconds.

"Edward, I know you've beaten yourself up about your part in our demise, whether it was known to me or not." Melancholy continued to saturate the air around them. "We both hold blame here, but for different reasons. And you're right, forgiveness does go both ways." Straightening her stance, she pledged, "Please know you have mine."

He placed his open hand over his heart. "Believe me, the feeling's mutual."

Leaning back against her doorjamb, she sniffled. "A new page."

His crooked half-grin appeared. "A new chapter."

"Maybe even a new book."

"I say we both scrap the plans to journey down our roads to Perdition." Edward shifted on his feet before continuing. "We have enough on our plate that we'll need to fight off together as a team. Can we just start over tomorrow?"

"I'd like that." A relieved sigh escaped her. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." He moved away, heading for his bedroom door.

"May—may I hug you goodnight?" The words were out before she could take them back, but he reacted in an instant.

She watched Edward walk the four steps toward her like a movie reel slowed for dramatic effect. He stopped when they were toe to toe and her heart beat skipped forward like a scratched disc. His arms hung at his sides until he extended them forward ever so slightly, just as she threaded her arms under his and around his waist.

Pressed against his firm body, she breathed him in. With her head resting on his chest she could feel his heart thumping as well. Thankful that it wasn't just her own visceral reaction, she felt a restfulness blanket her as he tightened his hold.

Reveling in the feeling of her friend's arms around her, tears threatened yet again. It had been too long. They needed this moment to complete their journey of emotional mayhem. Like the hissing gush heard when a roller coaster finally comes to an end. After the dive loops, corkscrews and vertical drops are no longer pushed on by gravity; it's time for a change in velocity. A calmer and less stressful road, hopefully filled with a sense of peace but excitement for new adventures.

A few moments later, she loosened her hold and stepped back, looking into his eyes. "Thank you for that."

He nodded, a faint smile playing on his lips. "Anytime."

"I'll see you tomorrow?"

"I'll be here," he said, dipping his head. "G'night."

**$GREED$**

Nearly three weeks passed in a blur for Isabella after the honesty overhaul. She and Edward were interacting on a daily basis, and it thrilled her. At times, he chose to stay in the quiet, safe haven of his bedroom, and she didn't pursue him; other days, she woke to the aroma of brewed coffee and realized that Edward was already up and about, wanting to be social. Some mornings, she even found him reading his Italian newspaper on the open patio. Baby steps from twenty days ago were transforming into enormous leaps.

Isabella put no expectations on him, and in her heart she felt like they were each healing both physically and emotionally. She extended herself as much as possible, cooking all of his favorite meals, trying to put into actions how grateful she felt to have been given a second chance at making things right between them. She wanted to take it a step further though, and was ecstatic when the mail arrived from Texas with the specially requested package that Felix sent over.

"Hey! I'm not waking you, am I?" She stepped gingerly through the vegetable garden in search of this week's spoils. She had to remember to lay down some new mulch in the next day or two.

"_No, not at all. You're one of only two people on the planet who use this burner phone. I'll always answer when this one rings, kiddo. Plus, my slave-driver of a girlfriend had us downstairs in the gym at quarter after five this morning. "_

Isabella cringed. "Ugh! Why so early?"

"_I'm in Dallas today. Had to be here for a ten o'clock meeting."_

"Oh, okay. That makes sense. Well, listen, just wanted you to know that our package arrived safely. Thank you for getting it here so quickly." She smiled, finding the tomatoes she'd left last week had turned a brilliant shade of red.

"_You're welcome. Did you give it to him, yet?"_

"No, I was going to wait until after dinner." She practically salivated thinking about the sausage and peppers she'd prepared, along with the fresh Caprese salad and stuffed artichokes. Three of Edward's favorites in one delicious dinner. She couldn't wait to surprise him.

"_Good deal. Oh, and I'm glad you called. There's been talk on the news about the D'Emilia trial starting up again next month."_

Her stomach sank. The last few weeks in Sorrento almost had Isabella feeling like a human again. But reality would always come crashing down on her. She wasn't free. She didn't know if she ever really could be.

"Have you heard anything more from Denali?" She sat back on her heels, surrounded by zucchini and yellow squash not yet ripened.

"_No. She's been uncharacteristically quiet. Don't know if that's good or bad."_

Isabella tilted her head to the sky, hoping to find the solution appear on a cloud. Movement on the balcony caught her eye. She raised her hand to Edward who motioned to her that he wanted to speak to Felix as well.

"I guess we'll just sit tight and see if anything ramps up as the court dates approach. I was never told when they'd need me next. Once the arraignments were over, I was basically in a holding pattern until they called me in to testify. Now, though, since my disappearance, I don't know what they'll do."

"_You haven't seen anything suspicious over there, right?"_

Standing to dust her pants off, she responded, "Nope." Edward approached her in the garden, heart-stopping smile in place, causing a flutter of nerves inside. "It's been paradise."

Edward quirked his brow, cocked his head with his arms wide, boasting, "You're talking about me, obviously." He snickered and snorted.

Though his line was meant to be silly and sarcastic, he'd never comprehend how necessary and desired—even as a friend—he'd made Isabella feel just by engaging her every day. Even the most menial of tasks and moments were catapulted exponentially because she hadn't felt abandoned. She hoped he'd been feeling that way, too.

"Okay, well, let me put Edward on for you. Thanks again for the delivery. Say hi to Claudia."

"_Will do. You be safe."_

She passed the phone to Edward. "Dinner in thirty, _Ernesto._"

"Yes, dear."

She giggled as she walked away. Her husband may have been fictional, but the man playing the part was very, very real.

**$GREED$**

"What's this?" Edward exclaimed, rounding the corner and finding Isabella with a huge box at her feet.

"Present." She pushed it toward him while he took a seat next to her on the couch. "Open it."

He narrowed his eyes, though he was grinning while reaching for the taped flaps. "That succulent dinner from start to finish and now a gift? It's not even my birthday."

"Eh." She shrugged with a mischievous smile. "Don't need a holiday to do something nice, right?"

About two hundred Styrofoam peanuts littered the floor as he dug around like a toddler discovering a sandbox for the first time. "Why do I feel the need to say, 'Frageeee-lay' right now?"

Isabella toppled over in hysterics while he continued to sift and make a mess. "Thank you, Mr. Parker, for the comic relief. It's actually kind of spot on."

Just as she finished her sentence, Edward pulled a small lamp from the box and his jaw fell open. He turned to her, curiosity and mirth in his eyes.

"I just thought it was wasting away in your guest bedroom in Austin, when it could be over here giving us some light." She picked a few peanuts away from the shade, static causing them to cling. "I mean, a lamp is meant to be turned on, right?"

"Definitely." He reached for her hand and squeezed. "Thank you. This means a lot . . . you have no idea."

She nodded, a happy sigh of relief escaping. "My pleasure." She slid to the floor to gather up the wayward Styrofoam stragglers while Edward fished out a package of light bulbs Felix sent along in the box.

"So, uhhh . . . I guess I have a surprise of sorts for you, too." He laughed, reaching for her hair, which had a few hitchhiking peanuts attached to some strands.

"You do?"

They both chuckled, finally succeeding in removing all the annoying packaging from the floor and her hair.

"Yeah. You've been cooking for us around the clock for weeks, now. With the exception of my pancakes and smoothies from time to time, of course."

"Of course." She giggled.

"So, I decided that I wanted to take us out to dinner. _Bianca_ and _Ernesto_ on the town."

Her chin jutted forward. "You what? Take us out?"

"It's already set up. Nothing for you to worry about. I've taken care of all the details that are racing through your head, so stop."

"But . . . Edward, you don't have to do that for me. I'm fine. I _like_ taking care of us. Makes me feel like I'm contributing, to say nothing of the safety factor if we leave. Me running out to the grocery store for thirty minutes wearing a hat and sunglasses is vastly different than us sitting in a restaurant for an extended amount of time.

"And what about you?" She jumped up from the floor. "You've been doing great around here, but out in public? With plenty of lights everywhere? I'm worried it'll set you off and you'll panic." She shook her head and started pacing, while Edward watched her from his perch on the arm of the couch. "No. It's too risky. I'll learn to make you whatever you're craving from a restaurant."

"Are you done?"

"What?" She smacked her arms at her sides. "Yes . . . I suppose," her voice grumbled. "Your turn."

"Thank you. Decision's already made. I planned it all. We're not going far. And if it'll make you feel better, you can wear one of your pairs of glasses and put on a wig. I'm a brunette-man, myself,"—he shrugged with a smirk—"but whatever makes you feel safest."

"Ugh, Edward," she sighed. "Why try to fix what's not broken? I don't want you to feel like you have to risk your health or our safety just because we've been lying low. I knew the deal going into this." She sat next to him on the arm of the sofa. "I'm just thankful to be alive and to have my friend back." She shook her head with a smile, imploring, "I don't need anything more than that, I _promise_."

She studied his stare as he huffed, a grin to match hers. "Our reservations are for eight o'clock Thursday night, _Signora Carbone_. We're doing this and we'll be fine." He winked. "_I _promise."

* * *

**A/N: Like I said . . . can't decide if it was this chapter or the last one that was my favorite, although the one I'm writing now is up there, too! LOL. Anyway, we're rounding the final bend, readers. Just a few chapters left after this one. **

**So much love and thanks to my pre_GREED_ers: Lay, Hood, Born, Cejsmom and my super-duper beta, LaMomo. Couldn't do this without them. To all my dedicated readers: thank you so much for being here every week and especially to my friends who take the time to leave me their thoughts along the way. Love to hear how you're feeling. **

**My hope is to continue to stick with posting every Sunday, but sadly, my uncle passed away unexpectedly this week, so emergency trips to the JerZ and family gatherings have taken up much of my writing/editing time. Chapter 19 will post on time, but if 20 is a little late, just hang in there. It'll only be delayed by a few days, I suspect. Thanks for understanding!**

**xo, Jen**


	19. Chapter 19

**$GREED$**

"Well, this is a phenomenal evening so far, _Signor Carbone_." Isabella leaned forward, extending her arm and clinking her wine glass against Edward's. They were the only people dining at Miccio's this evening. Seated in a corner table under the green awning, the couple was surrounded by several hanging candles encased in glass globes. Three smaller votive candles sat in the middle of their table with a single white rose in a vase in their center. Lush ferns and other hanging baskets of flowers decorated the beams that framed the outdoor patio. It was darkened, quiet . . . perfect for them.

They were waited on by a young lady, the daughter of the chef on duty for the evening. Edward ordered for both Isabella and himself, speaking flawless Italian, while Isabella peppered in her _grazie'_s and _prego's_ when necessary.

"I can't believe you did all this." She took a sip and placed her glass down. "Well, no, actually, I can believe it. You're pretty amazing, _Ernesto_. Is there anything you can't do?"

Edward chuckled, trying to swallow his wine without choking. "When it comes to you, _Bianca,_ I certainly hope not." He directed his head nod toward her plate. "How's your gnocchi?"

"Delicious. Wanna taste?"

It was Edward's turn to lean toward the table. "Thought you'd never ask, darling." His retort, coupled with his quirked brow, had her bristling with excitement. They were both laying it on a little thick with the husband and wife banter, but she learned quickly that playing house was quite the adrenaline rush.

Isabella stifled her snort and scooped up a few pasta dumplings. They were mouth-watering; soaked in a blush vodka cream sauce with melted mozzarella stretching as the fork traveled from her plate directly into Edward's mouth.

He hummed and nodded, his eyes closed while savoring the taste. His satisfaction was a sight to behold.

Ever since their gut-wrenching heart-to-heart three weeks ago, Edward's entire demeanor had shifted. Gone was his sullen mood combined with shortly-phrased responses on the rare occasions when he emerged from his bedroom. It seemed they'd traveled almost one hundred eighty degrees from those first few painful weeks. Now, Isabella found they were spending multiple hours throughout the day together, cooking meals, laughing, playing cards and other games to pass the time . . . to say nothing of the flirting going on, and it thrilled her.

She felt giddy—like she was thirteen again—and filled with nerves anytime the popular boy in her grade paid her any attention. Years ago in middle school, whenever Mark Dugan glanced her way—let alone spoke to her—she'd get beet red in the face and simply giggle in response to his remarks.

This time though, the popular boy happened to be her husband. Granted, the husband factor was fictional and on paper only, but it didn't take away from the beautiful man in front of her with a heart of gold. Her inner teenager squealed, escaping to her bedroom, armed with a diary to doodle their initials together. The enticing thoughts she was having about him—about _them_—created a stirring in her soul, desperate to be explored.

"Are you enjoying your risotto?"

He nodded, swallowing the pasta Isabella had just fed him. "It's wonderful. Would you like some?"

"Yes, please," she crooned, plastering on a cheesy grin. They held eye contact while he fed her the forkful of Italian rice until the sound of shattering glass startled them out of their Hallmark moment. Edward stiffened and Isabella's eyes bugged out as he yanked the fork from her mouth, sending it clattering to the table, while grains of risotto went flying from her lips.

He leapt up to go check out what happened while Isabella tried desperately to chew and swallow her rice without choking. She gulped from her water goblet, standing and turning to find Edward, who walked back to their table in a much calmer manner than how he'd dashed away thirty seconds earlier.

"Are you all right?" He rubbed her back as she continued to cough, trying to rid her throat of rogue pieces of rice. "Everything's okay. The waitress dropped a coffee cup and saucer in the kitchen."

"Whew." Isabella took a few more deep breaths and sat down again in the chair Edward held out for her. "Clearly our nerves are shot. That got my heart racing."

He nodded pensively, taking his seat. "Me too." Picking up his wine, he took a large swig and found her staring at him. "We should probably talk about what the game plan for you might be over the next few weeks, even months."

Isabella folded her hands across her lap. "I figured as much. Felix said the news coverage on the D'Emilias has started up again." She pinched her lips together and shifted in her seat. "It pains me because it's the last thing in the world I want to do right now, but I should probably come out of hiding to give them my testimony."

"And then what? The cops won't let you out of their sight this time. You still owe community service, and they'll probably try to whisk you away again under WitSec to do trash pickup in some podunk town." Edward's voice sounded rattled. "And we _still _don't know who's truly after you. Whitlock's a piece of shit, desperate to hold onto his office and those warped dreams of his political future. If you confess all your knowledge of the shady dealings with the mob, it also continues to implicate Whitlock even beyond what's already been disclosed. You'll piss them all off even more."

"I know," she whispered, her shoulders rolling forward in resignation. "I've tried not to think about it. Especially since you and I have been getting along so well." Isabella brought her hands to her face, rubbing at her temples, trying to make it all just go away.

Edward's jaw tensed as he looked toward the street. A crowd of teenagers laughed when they strolled alongside the restaurant's front garden.

Isabella wished she and Edward could go back to enjoying a jovial moment like those kids, but reality crept in and cast a wet blanket over their memorable night. She swallowed back the lump in her throat, trying to ignore all the emotions and flirtatious feelings she'd been wrestling with for the last few weeks.

Edward shook his head before returning his attention to Isabella. "You know what? I don't want to think about any of this tonight." He slapped the table, a genuine smile suddenly on his face. "Let's finish our dinner. We have another destination before our night is over."

Her glassy eyes crinkled at the thought that Edward wanted to continue to extend their evening. The matter of their unsure future could wait until tomorrow. Her friendship with this man and their unforgettable date was infinitely more important to her right now. But oh, with every word he said and step he took, he was making it next to impossible for her not to fall head over heels for him. The concept was both thrilling and terrifying.

"Deal," she said through a shuddery breath, her heartbeat picking up its pace.

"Would you like any cappuccino or espresso before we leave?" he questioned, raising his finger to grab the waitress's attention.

Isabella shook her head and smiled. "No. I'm ready for chapter two of our splendid date."

**$GREED$**

"Come on," –he jerked his head—"let's take a walk." Edward reached his hand out to Isabella, who didn't hesitate to lace her fingers with his.

"A walk?" The nerves in her voice were evident while she steered her body toward their car parked along the street. "Is that smart? I mean, I didn't wear a wig." She looked around, concerned. "You sure about this?"

He pulled her next to his body. "Very, very sure," he whispered below her ear, enjoying the faint scent of her perfume, "and thank you for not wearing a wig. You look lovely tonight_ and_ quite scholarly." He smiled, tapping the bridge of her nose where her glasses sat. "I like you being you. No elaborate disguises necessary; you're pretty perfect as is."

She groused. "Yeah, I'm _so_ far beyond the realm of perfect, but I appreciate the compliment."

He stopped moving forward, tugging her back to him so that they were face-to-face. The evening shadows of the cobblestone street sheltered them while a warm breeze had fig leaves rustling in the towering trees.

"Isabella, we're not using a measuring stick to compare you to anyone or anything else." He squeezed her hand. "Whatever happens from here on out, that's what should matter most to us, hear me?"

Her soulful brown eyes gazed deeply at his. If they weren't on the street with people milling about across the way, he'd plant one hell of a kiss on her pouty lips, but it wasn't the right time. They were still taking things slowly, unsure of their future. He didn't want to rock the boat at the moment, especially in public, and still not entirely sure how she felt about the concept of them as a couple. He hoped it would fall in line in time. Her safety had to be his number one priority for now. Not _forever_, but for now.

"Perfect," he declared again in a whisper.

They turned the corner onto _Via Torquato Tasso_, passing _Piazza Antiche Mura_ and the _supermercato_ where Isabella shopped for their groceries. Very few people were wandering even though the temperature was mild for early October. The grape festival, held last weekend, entertained what seemed to be the last of the straggling summer tourists.

"So, do I get a hint about where you're taking me next?" Isabella pulled on his arm, tipping his head down toward hers. She held a mischievous glimmer in her eye.

"You'll see soon enough," he murmured before greeting the shopkeeper from the_ tabaccheria_, who was sweeping his entryway. "_Buona sera_."

The popping sounds of the fireworks in the distance made them smile while a different shop owner serenaded a couple of giggling young ladies, who were perusing the leather purses hanging on the displays at the door to his store.

Edward nodded his head to the left as they veered onto _Corso Italia._ "Here's our turn."

"No way." Isabella paused in the street.

Smirking, he tugged her arm again. "Well, I guess you won't know until you get there, right?"

"Edward, you didn't." They approached the dimly lit _gelateria_—the most famous one in the city—and she shook her head, reading the sign aloud, "Closed for a private party." Turning to face him, she met his gaze. "I _cannot_ believe you bought out Bougainvillea."

He tilted his head to mirror hers. "I mean, I hardly bought them out, _Bianca_." He winked. "Reserved it for us for the night, yes . . . but it's not like I own the place. Unless . . ." Trailing off, his voice rose while teasing her.

"Stop it," she warned, exasperated but giggling, which had Edward exhaling in sweet relief. He snickered as she dragged him into the shop. Owning a_ gelateria_ would be a fun but caloric investment. If they stayed in Italy for any significant amount of time, it might not be a bad idea.

Edward reveled in the fact that this night had come together so seamlessly. Between the darkened streets and the care the restaurant owners took in preparing the settings for them, his anxiety was non-existent.

"_Buona sera, Signora Carbone_." The attendant addressed them from behind the glass counter. "_Signor_."

_"Buona sera," _Edward answered with a smile_. "Mia moglie ordina per noi due. Io vado a sedermi in veranda_." After telling the girl that his wife would be ordering for the two of them while he intended to wait out on the patio, he jerked his head toward the back of the parlor. "_Ci mettiamo solo un minuto_."

Smiling, Edward and Isabella walked past the bistro tables as the girl behind the freezer displays agreed to wait for a moment so they could get situated.

While concentrating on his breathing, Edward led them out the back door. An ice cream parlor was much brighter than the lighting in a romantic restaurant, but he soldiered through. When they arrived at the darkened patio, he turned to her, squeezing her fingers before dropping his hand from her grasp. "_Fragola, per favore, cara mia._"

She smiled and blushed, hearing him address her so lovingly. "Strawberry for you, got it."

"You okay to order on your own?" He chose a table for them and pulled out their chairs.

Taking a deep breath, she bounced on her feet with an excited look on her face. "I think so. I mean, I muddle my way through buying cold cuts at the deli counter down the block, so I should be fine." She walked through the doorway, but poked her head back out to him, whispering, "On a cone?"

He widened his arms after unbuttoning his suit jacket. "How else?"

She giggled, rolling her eyes and disappearing into the shop.

Edward took a seat and scrubbed his hands up and down his face. This night had turned out better than he'd ever imagined it could. He knew his lingering and growing feelings toward Isabella might never be reciprocated, but he couldn't find it in himself to care or overanalyze her reactions. When she showed him that three thousand dollars, he knew deep down that he'd been right about her all along.

No matter what the world thought of Isabella and how she earned her money for those few years, he knew who she really was: an intelligent and stunning woman who never had anyone else to rely on, so she went ahead and took care of herself the best way she knew how. She loved herself, she just didn't know it . . . and he planned to be the one to help her make that discovery.

It didn't matter if it were Edward or Isabella who made the more dastardly choices or whose decisions and actions in life were more heinous than the others . . . what counted above all else was that they absolved themselves and each other of those wrongdoings.

Now, it was time to move on . . . and tonight was another enormous stride in the right direction.

The parlor door opened wide, tearing Edward from his moments of reflection.

"_Fragola per il mio caro marito."_ Isabella sang her words, handing his cone over. _"Pistacchio per me."_

Winking, she took a seat and dug into her cone while Edward watched with rapt attention. The way she smoothly delivered her line in Italian made him proud, and the fact that she called him her 'dear husband' sent an unexpected swarm of butterflies swooping through his gut.

She hummed, eyes fluttering while pulling the spoon from her mouth before scooping off another chunk of her green-tinted gelato. "Good God, this is divine." She raised her eyebrows. "How's your strawberry?"

"Fantastic." He quirked his brow. "Shall we swap tastes again?"

She nodded and tipped her dessert toward Edward as he did the same for her. It was all he could do to keep his eyes from rolling back in his head, watching this woman lick from his . . . _cone_. He had to smirk at his sexually-repressed psyche which was doing a bang up job of driving him up and down a wall lately. Between the cool gelato sliding down his throat and this scorching woman, who drove him bonkers in his fantasies, let alone this reality, it was a wonder that a thunderstorm didn't develop right there on the patio as the warm and cold fronts collided in a spectacular way.

Needing to calm the hell down, he tried not to focus on it, cleared his throat, and sat back in his chair. "Very good. Pistachio has always been a favorite of mine as well."

They ate the rest of their ice cream in comfortable silence, enjoying the last of the fireworks in the distance. When they finished, Edward thanked the girl behind the counter, and they made their way back to the car, reminiscing about their old study habits and quirky Professor Howard, who drove them nuts with his constant need to add sound effects like pings, boings, and tongue clicks to his lectures.

It thrilled Edward to see Isabella so open, willing to have fun and let go of her perpetual self-loathing. He hoped, in time, she would no longer be haunted by her actions of the past. She was worth infinitely more than that.

They reached the car just as Edward's cell phone rang. Holding the door open for her as she sat, he answered.

"What's up?"

"_Hi. Any chance you're near Isabella?"_

He glanced at her expectant face. "Yeah, she's right here. Need to speak with her?"

"_Actually, just put me on speaker. I want to hear from both of you."_

Edward pulled the phone from his ear and tapped the button. "Okay, you're live."

"Hi Felix!"

"_Hey. Listen, we have a problem_." It amazed Edward how his stomach could form a knot after hearing those four simple words. "_I just came from Denali's office."_

"Okaaaay," Isabella responded. "What did she want?"

"_She knows something's up. Apparently they did enough digging and figured out who Edward was from that little meeting in your Abilene hotel room."_

Edward concentrated on the drive but recognized the panic on Isabella's face in his periphery.

Felix continued. _"They must've matched the dead agent's phone records and found the number you called the night the shooters came after you. Even though we got rid of the agent's cell, and you only called once, it was enough to connect that you were alive and you must be with Edward."_

Edward turned the car onto their long driveway. He did his best to focus on his breathing, this news throwing him for a loop. They'd been so careful getting Isabella safely out of the country, that first phone call was something none of them thought about. All of their concerns that night were about getting to her as quickly as possible.

"Oh, fuck," Isabella whimpered, unbuckling her belt. "So what? What did Denali say to you exactly?"

"_I just sat there and listened to her spiel. I wasn't about to give you up without talking it over with you both. They have absolutely no idea where you are, but they know you're off the radar. We all know she needs your testimony for the D'Emilia trial next month."_

"Did she hint at what happened back in Lockhart?"

"_Not at all. If there's a dirty cop involved in WitSec, she either doesn't know about it or has no intention of giving him or her up."_

"And she wants to put me back into the program if I come back to testify?"

"_Yes. She took great pleasure in reminding me that you'd be a fugitive if you didn't show up to the trial."_ Felix sounded unimpressed, his comments dry. _"She promised there'd be no future mishaps with your safety, though."_

"Oh, like she can fucking guarantee that!" Edward lashed out, having stayed quiet for the last few minutes, though his blood had reached a rolling boil. "She's out of her goddamn mind!"

"_Take it easy,"_ Felix soothed. _"We're gonna figure this out. I left her office without giving her any hopes of contacting you . . . but it's time to think about your options and start making some decisions."_

Edward and Isabella stared at each other. Less than two hours ago they'd had this same exchange and put it on the back burner, not wanting their night out ruined. It seemed life had other plans.

Isabella's eyes welled with tears just as Edward started to speak. "Okay, Felix. We're going to get some sleep over here and start figuring things out in the morning."

"_You bet. I'm here when you need me. We'll talk tomorrow."_

Edward disconnected the call and turned to his distraught friend.

With her head tipped back against the seat of the car, Isabella spoke softly. "Thank you for an incredible night. I hate that it's ending like this; I feel cheated."

Edward nodded, understanding her frustration. "Me too. But right up until Felix called, our time out was pretty fantastic." He placed his fingers under her chin so they were eye to eye before speaking again. "Thank you for indulging me tonight. I had a wonderful evening."

"It was definitely my pleasure." She forced a smile. "Guess it's time to turn in."

After locking up the villa, they exchanged a tight hug before heading into their individual bedrooms. Edward took solace in the fact that Isabella seemed just as deflated over the anticlimactic ending to their date.

He undressed in the dark, disheartened that such a memorable occasion became tarnished with the reality facing them six thousand miles away. He knew there were options. He'd already been discussing them with Felix for weeks. Phone calls had been made to Alistair. It would be so easy, and yet, life-altering.

But it all ultimately hinged on Isabella's decision.

He lay in bed for close to an hour, tossing and turning, before deciding to head up to the rooftop terrace to get some fresh air and to clear his head.

Upstairs, he stretched out on the one of the chaise lounges. Distant lights from the marina sparkled across town. There were a few boats out on the water decorated in lights, but the city seemed fairly quiet.

"Couldn't sleep?"

Isabella's voice sent Edward shooting out of his chair and whirling around, clutching his heart.

"Holy shit, you scared me to death." He blew out a deep breath before chuckling. "Yeah. Too much racing around in my head. You?"

She nodded, her lips pursed as she took a seat on the glider. "Same." She patted the cushion next to her. "Wanna go for a ride?"

Her double entendres never failed to keep him grinning. He sat down and pushed his foot against the cement to start them in motion. Leaning back against the seat, he stretched his arm out in invitation and within seconds, Isabella scooted closer to his body, tucking herself into his side and tipping her head onto his shoulder.

They rocked in silence until Edward heard Isabella sniffle a few times. He nudged her a bit and turned his face, trying to catch a look at her to see if she was okay.

"Sorry," she whispered, swiping the tears off her cheeks. "I'm just really going through it right now. I'm scared, I'm angry, I'm pitying myself . . ." –she shook her head—"I'm a mess and it's all my own fault. I got too used to things being light-hearted and unburdened, but it's all come crashing back into my lap like a wrecking ball."

He coaxed her to nestle into his side again before he continued rocking them. It was apparent that she felt terrified and vulnerable, and he was certain he could offer her some hope. Taking a deep breath, not knowing if one in the morning was the best time to introduce this topic, he broke their silence anyway. "If I told you that you could disappear forever, would you want to?"

"What do you mean?" she whispered, dabbing her knuckles at the corners of her eyes.

"I mean . . . be done with it—with all of it. Just vanish from everything and everyone you've ever known."

"That's the Fed's plan, I imagine. I'll give my testimony and then they'll rush me off, handing me a new identity, new place where they can keep monitoring me, making sure I'm safe."

Edward nodded. "Right._ They'd_ keep monitoring you. They'd always know where you were, and it's still a mystery if the person assigned to placing you in WitSec is the same person on the inside who was willing to give you up at the safe house in August." He stopped rocking them. "What if you never had to be under their thumb again? What if there were an alternative?"

This time Isabella fully turned in his arms and straightened herself on the seat to face him. She held his stare before giving a subtle shake to her head. "What would that be? How could I stay safe if I'm not under their protection?"

"Because you'd be under mine." His words almost got caught in his throat, but he managed to keep it together. "I'd keep you safe. I could make it so that you'd disappear, we'd disappear together. You'd never have to fear for your life . . . ever again."

Her brows furrowed, but she smiled. "I couldn't expect you to do that, Edward. We're talking the rest of my life, here." She lifted her palm. "You have a whole life ahead of you as an international economist, the owner of the oil company, all of your other investments," she rattled off. "Don't even joke about such things."

"Do I look or sound like I'm joking?" He slid off the swing and knelt back on his legs in front of her, holding her hands. "I'm completely serious, Isabella. This didn't just pop into my head in the last hour. I've worked this all out on paper. I've told Felix. I even reached out to the guy who took care of all of our Italian documents."

She shook her head, her look incredulous. "Edward, no. I can't ask you to do that. This is my mess. Whisking me away to Italy for a few months is one thing . . . but to stop your entire life? Your livelihood? How would that—I mean, I don't even know how you could possibly make any of that work." Her voice rose while her temper flared. "And honestly, to even dangle a carrot like that is a cruel tease. The things I've been thinking about, hoping for . . . with you . . ." Isabella's errant thoughts were splintered but they didn't escape Edward. "You have no idea!" She pulled her hands from his and stood from the glider. "I know you're not trying to be hurtful," her voice sounded pained, ". . . but what you're talking about is completely illogical, and it's only making me sadder because I know it won't ever happen."

Whipping past him, she headed for the staircase but Edward moved faster, catching up to her and yanking her arm back to bring her close to him.

"Listen to me!" His commanding tone startled her. "I would _never_ tease you. _Never_ be purposefully cruel to you—" He stopped short, realizing that he'd already broken that promise months ago. "Well, not anymore. You know that. We've wiped our slates clean, and you know where my heart is. I've told you how I feel about you, and that's never going to change."

Isabella's tears were now falling steadily, listening to his pleas as he towered over her.

"I promise I'll answer all your questions in time, so please don't worry about that right now," he implored. "All I need from you in this moment is to answer me this: if I could take you away from all of this, keep you safe and give you the life you deserve—even if it's out of the limelight—would you do it?" he hedged. "Would you come with me forever?"

"Edward!" She sobbed his name, struggling to free herself from his grip. "Please don't say—"

"WOULD YOU?"

Her hands flew up to cover her face. "Yes!" she cried. "I want a life with you! I'd go _anywhere_ with you!"

Without hesitating, he cupped her cheeks while his lips collided with hers. He could taste the salty tears that continued to stream down her face as she opened her mouth to his. Gently sweeping his tongue along her lower lip, he felt emboldened, and in that instant she whimpered, melting into his embrace.

It was a scene that started hard and fast, completely unscripted and caused Edward's heart to hammer in his chest. Wanting to savor this moment, he tempered his kiss from demanding to delicate, relishing the feathery feeling of her supple mouth moving with his. He dusted his thumbs along her moist cheeks and down her jaw before pulling his head back to find her gaze.

Isabella's eyelids fluttered until she focused on him. He smiled gently and leaned in once more for a soft peck. "C'mon."

Holding her hand in his, they descended the rooftop stairs and entered the second floor hallway. After sliding the lock into place, he led her to his bedroom at the opposite end of the hall. He didn't ask questions, didn't say a word. Pulling back the covers, he climbed in and she followed. Without coaxing, Isabella tucked her petite form up against Edward's chest. Taking his cue from her, he folded his arm over her waist and molded his body around hers.

Edward held Isabella until her sniffling stopped and her breathing evened out under the weight of his arms. Though he was thrilled to have her in his grasp, in his bed . . . this night was about so much more than reconnecting with sex. Light years beyond a physical need to express their feelings for each other, it was her declaration on the roof that had him beaming in the darkness: S_he'd go anywhere with him. Give anything to be with him._

His mind was made up. His innate need for darkened shadows be damned . . . Edward would keep her safe for the rest of his days even if it meant parking himself on the sun.

He'd set his plan in motion tomorrow. It was time to make forever happen.

* * *

**A/N: We've got a pledge of forever . . . now, let's see if we can make it happen without any hiccups. **

**Enormous thanks to my team, as always: my pre_GREED_ers Lay, Hoodie, Born and Cejsmom and to my fantastic beta LaMomo, who expertly collaborated on the impeccable Italian we heard from our dear_ Bianca_ and _Ernesto Carbone_. **

**Like I said last week, between my uncle passing and then spring break with my kiddos home 24/7 for the last ten days, it's been hard to get writing done, but I promise to bring you chapter twenty as soon as possible. I'm still aiming for next Sunday.**

**Have you heard about the new contest? Caveat Emptor: Buyer Beware! One shots with angsty plots that may or may not have a happily ever after . . . you'll be on the edge of your seat until the end! For more information, come look us up on this site, Facebook and Twitter. ****www . fanfiction u /6649093 / Maybe-an-HEA-Contest (just take out the spaces)**

**Much love to all my readers and reviewers! Thank you for coming along on this adventure! Oh, and Happy Easter, Happy Passover and Buona Pasqua from our very own _Ernesto _and_ Bianca_! **

**xo, Jen**


	20. Chapter 20

**$GREED$**

Edward drummed his fingers along the counter, watching the coffee drip into the pot at a decent clip. While rainwater poured from the gutter outside the kitchen window, he—unable to keep still—decided to prep the mugs with cream and sugar. For as gloomy and dark as the weather was outside, his uncontrollable grin could light up the entire villa this morning. He couldn't have been more eager to rejoin Isabella in his bedroom where—he hoped—she was still sleeping soundly through the incessant rumbling of thunder and flashes of lightning. She stirred a couple of times as the night wore on and the storm outside began. He imagined the storm inside her was just as brutal, but he held her tighter, pulling her quaking body into his chest and his closeness succeeded in quieting her restlessness.

He calmed _her_ down. Throughout the night. Indeed, nothing could dampen his smile this morning.

After pouring the cups, he made his way upstairs and found her on her stomach, cocooned within the blankets and her face burrowed into his pillow. Not even her pillow, his! The man's chest couldn't puff up anymore, but he knew he needed to relax a bit with the ego trip.

Edward had waited years to hear what she said last night, which was why he allowed himself a snippet of a victory dance before they'd have to undertake the next huge steps: was Isabella serious and would she agree to his plan or not?

He dragged the warm bottom rim of the coffee mug up her bare arm to her exposed shoulder before placing his lips there. It had the desired effect; she began moving under the covers, stretching her limbs while her eyelids fluttered.

The bed jostled when he sat back near her legs. He rolled his bottom lip between his teeth in excitement and anxiety, waiting for her to lift her head off the pillow. This was the first time he'd ever watched her awaken. He hoped to hell and back it wouldn't be the last.

"Morning," he started, dipping his head in greeting.

She squeaked out a yawn as her body did a full flex and release before sitting up slowly, the strap of her tank top slipping down her shoulder. "Morning. Mmmm, can I hope that one of those is for me?" She expectantly eyed the mugs in his hands.

He passed it over with a mischievous look. "Yup. I already brought the girl down the hall her coffee and gave her my standard morning wake-up call," he confessed with a wink.

Isabella's eyebrows practically rose to her hairline, her eyes widening over the rim of her cup. She pulled her lips away before getting her first drop. "Not funny,_ Ernesto_."

He snickered, squinting his eyes. "It was a little funny."

"I could be a crazy, Italian wife, y'know? Threatening you with a wooden spoon in one hand while chasing you around our house!" She giggled before taking a sip.

"That does sound like a pleasurable way to spend a day with you. I'll have to keep that in mind for the future." Her foot kicked him from under the covers and he chuckled. "Seriously, though. How are you? Do you feel at least somewhat rested?"

"I do." She leaned over and put her mug on his nightstand. "Thank you for that, by the way. My reality isn't pretty." She shrugged. "Guess it had to catch up to me eventually. I appreciate you holding my hand—so to speak."

"You're welcome." He took a gulp from his cup and placed it next to hers. "Will you allow me to keep holding it?" He watched her take a deep breath before he added, "Am I scaring you?"

With a subtle shake of her head, she spoke softly. "No. But I need you to explain your plans. Last night on the roof it seemed far-fetched" –she ran her fingers through her hair— "almost an impossible dream between our conversation and then the kiss . . ." She trailed off, a playful look on her face. "It was a lot to process, to say the least."

He nodded. "I figured that." He got comfortable in the middle of the bed, crossing his legs and folding his hands in his lap, ready to divulge the master plan. She mirrored his actions, giving him her full attention just as a flash of lightning streaked across the sky. A rumble of thunder followed soon after, so powerful it shook the walls of the villa.

"The way I see it, we could go anywhere you want in the world. I mean, we could just stay in Sorrento . . ." He was borderline giddy, gesticulating, explaining his idea. "Everything is already set up for us in Italy. Why bother leaving?" He chuckled.

She responded with a doubtful smile. "But I have to go back at _some_ point. I have to testify against the D'Emilias . . . put in my community service—"

"No, you don't." He cocked his head back. "You don't have to go back at all. You already turned over all the paperwork, recordings . . . Isabella, they have everything they need to put those crooks away."

"Yeah, but without my testimony, it's a much weaker case, to say nothing of the fact that my deal with the Feds goes right out the window." She leaned forward, trying to emphasize her point. "If I don't show up, suddenly I'm back on the hook for solicitation, corruption, extortion"–she ticked off her fingers—"not to mention being a federal fugitive, who'd no longer be under the protection of the WitSec program, no matter how shoddy their skills."

Edward pursed his lips, growing frustrated that Isabella wasn't in complete agreement with his idea. He thought this was bought and sold already. "But listen," he whispered, grabbing her hand, "right now, we're off the map. You heard Felix last night. They've got no clue where we are. We've been living in Italy for going on five weeks, and aside from a few broken dishes, we've been perfectly safe. Why chance going back? I could have my contact erase us completely. Not just us disappearing, but us . . . dying . . . just on paper, of course."

Confusion, even disgust crossed the features of her face. "Dying? You want to fake our deaths so that I can get out of testifying and doing whatever community service they assign me?"

His gaze darted around the room before he answered. "Pretty much . . . I mean, if it's going to keep you alive? Hell, yes."

"Edward," she admonished, shaking her head. "I can't do that. How could I do that to my mom? Let her think I died? She'd be devastated. She's already going out of her mind because I haven't spoken to her since the end of August." She sat up straighter. "She and I may not have a fantastic relationship, but that's just cruel. No. I won't do that to her. And weasel out of my testimony? I'm trying to do something right for a change. How can I face myself in the mirror, trying to rid myself of who I used to be, but in the next breath screw so many people out of a deal I agreed to months ago?"

"I don't get it. I'm offering you a way out. A clear path to happiness that just last night you said was like a carrot dangling in your face." He pushed himself off the bed and started pacing, his voice getting louder. "I know we're still in the infant stages of . . ."—his arms flailed around—"whatever this is between us, but shit . . . are we over before we've even restarted?"

Isabella buried her face in her hands, huffing, mumbling his name. She dragged her fingers through her tangled hair and got up on her knees. "Edward, please listen to me. Let me just call Detective Denali and see what she has to say. Find out when she needs me to be back. Maybe there's a way that I can keep in touch with you when they relocate me."

Her words were like multiple knives twisting in his stomach and back all at the same time. His breathing became choppier, though he tried to remain in control. He continued to walk back and forth in front of the balcony doors while the rain pelted the textured glass.

"Keep in touch? Like I'm your fucking pen pal or something?" He looked at her like she was sprouting another head. "Thanks, but no thanks. I'm trying to keep you alive! Those people can't hide you for shit, and even if they chose some little borough in God-knows-where, who's to say that the cop assigned to place you isn't getting a fat paycheck from Gianni D'Emilia or even Whitlock, for Christ's sake?" He jammed his fingers against his temple. "Think, Isabella!"

He could see that his words were having an effect on her. He didn't mean to make her cry more, but he was rapidly approaching his wits' end.

"Please, don't yell at me," her voice wavered. "Like I said . . . I'm just trying to do the right thing. Yeah, I could live without having to pick up dog shit in a park for the foreseeable future, but . . . there are worse things that could've happened. I agreed to this. I _have _to do it."

She crawled to the edge of the mattress and stepped in front of him, halting his frantic movements at the foot of the bed. When they were toe-to-toe, Isabella reached for his hand and held it in both of hers, close to her chest. "Edward. Can't you see that I'm making an effort to be less of a selfish bitch than I was for all those years? It started here with you, repairing our relationship, and even earlier with my apology to Felix . . . but I have to go the distance. I can't not testify."

After inhaling sharply, he pierced her with his stare. "Isabella, I've had to say goodbye to you entirely too many times. I can't do it again. I won't fucking do it again!" He was shouting by the end, dropping her hand and taking a few steps back.

She persisted, though, her hands clasped, praying for his understanding. "Edward, I swear I'm not trying to hurt you. Please, can't you see that I have to do this? Not just for legal reasons, but moral ones, too? I'm trying to save my soul, here." She smacked her hands on her thighs. "Let me just talk to Denali to see if we can work something out. That maybe I can visit you, or you can visit me—"

"You're dreaming," he spit. "That's not how this works. I may not know much about how life works on the outside, but I know that once you're in their system, that's all she wrote." He turned toward the glass doors, leaning his hands against the beveled edge which had been cooled by the rain. "If you go, it'll be our last goodbye . . . I know it will." His voice had become raspy in the heat of the exchange. "And I can't stomach the thought of that."

In his periphery, Edward saw Isabella's chin drop to her chest as she retreated from him. He heard her audible exhales and wanted to go to her, but his pride lay smashed in pieces on the floor. He'd been so convinced that she'd be on board and ready to run away with him. He never imagined that her perpetual guilty conscience would enter the equation yet again, dashing his hopes that they might get some semblance of a happily ever after.

"Listen—" Her voice interrupted his thoughts. "It's one in the morning in Dallas. I'm going to call Felix right now because he's a night owl, and I'll call Denali later this afternoon. If you want to listen in, I'd be fine with it. I don't want to hide anything from you, Edward. Not anymore . . . but I need to at least take this step to get some more information from her." He could see that she was tilting her head toward him, probably hoping he'd make eye contact, but he couldn't find the gumption to do so. "Will you excuse me?" she hedged, another crash of thunder almost drowning out her words.

He nodded; it was all the response he could muster.

"Okay. I'll . . . I'll see you a bit later."

He heard the bedroom door close behind her and found himself once again, alone in his room, Isabella walking in the opposite direction. An all-too-familiar gaping and agonizing wound.

**$GREED$**

"What if he shuts down again?" Whining made her sound insufferable to her own ears, but she was beyond distraught. Five steps forward and five hundred back would do that do a person.

"_He won't. I think he's just disappointed."_

"Disappointed is an understatement. Do you at least understand where I'm coming from? I mean. . . I'd give anything to just run away from the shit storm that's brewing back in Dallas. Edward and I have gotten so close. Closer than we ever were in our three years before." She dabbed at the corner of her eye as tears welled up. "I don't want to lose him, Felix. But . . ."

"_We'll figure it out. Just call Denali. We already went over what you have to ask."_

She nodded, wiping her nose with a tissue. "Okay. Will you be around for me to call you back?"

"_I can't believe you're even asking that question. I'll talk to you when I wake up in a few hours."_

"Thank you."

"_You got it."_

Isabella disconnected her call with Felix and took a calming breath. She hadn't smoked in a couple of days, but her nicotine craving suddenly went off the charts. After propping open one side of the bay window and lighting a cigarette, she curled up on the cushions, armed with an ashtray, her refilled coffee, and the mess she'd made of her life.

The rain poured down in buckets, but she figured it was a good thing. Since they'd arrived in Italy at the end of August, Isabella could count on one hand the times it had rained, and even then, it was only a passing shower. It was a complete mess outside, puddles all over the stone walkway and lawn, to say nothing of the muddy disaster pooling in the garden. She knew her vegetables and herbs were getting a thorough drink though, so something good would come out of the nasty weather. She chuckled at the ironic analogy to her life. On the surface it looked a total catastrophe, but perhaps after the storm—and with the help of the sun-a lush garden would thrive on the ground while a rainbow appeared above.

Isabella puffed out some smoke, tipping her head against the window pane. There had to be a way for her to follow through with her responsibilities and still have Edward by her side. She just couldn't wrap her head around what that scenario might look like.

**$GREED$**

Hours passed without any signs of life from Edward's room. Isabella decided not to push the issue, knowing she'd wounded him earlier in the morning. By four o'clock, she figured it was a reasonable time to expect that Detective Denali would be at work in Dallas.

She lit another cigarette before dialing the next set of numbers. If she got flustered during the call, she knew a drag or two would calm her a bit. After putting the phone to her ear, she saw Edward appear at the bottom of the staircase. Her heart began to beat faster.

"Hi. Detective Denali, please." She spoke to the woman who answered the phone and attempted a smile for Edward as he approached. He lifted his hand in a wave and took a seat on the couch next to her. The woman came back on the line, asking who was calling. "Isabella Cullen. Yes, thank you."

While on hold, she turned to Edward, so thankful he'd come downstairs.

"Hi."

"Hey." His jaw tensed before he spoke again. "I just . . . I wanted you to know I'm here for you. Always."

Her shoulders sagged in relief. No, nothing had been solved, but the rush of peace that washed over the room in that moment bolstered her for whatever would happen next with the detective. She didn't want to lose Edward in any capacity, but in her heart, she wanted to know that she fulfilled her duties and paid her penance, so she could move forward with a clean slate. If she could manage to keep Edward close to her throughout that process, she'd count herself doubly lucky.

Isabella reached for his hand, and he threaded his fingers through hers. Her stomach flipped, realizing that this man would do just about anything for her. The admiration expressed in his eyes convinced her that whatever time or distance away from each other they'd have to endure, she knew they'd overcome it. This was only their beginning, and it gave her a thrill of hope. A shy smile and the sincerity in her gaze hopefully told Edward everything he needed to know in that moment as her voice came out as a faint whisper. "Thank you."

"_This is Denali."_

She was startled, but recovered in an instant. "It's Isabella Cullen."

"_Well, well, Mrs. Cullen. Glad to know you're alive, which is more than I can say for the three agents I sent to watch over you four months ago."_

"That _was_ awful." Isabella shuddered at the memory. "We—we were ambushed somehow."

"_I gathered as much. You mind telling me why you didn't find the nearest police station and contact us?"_

"I had no idea where I was or who was shooting at me. I called the only people in the world I trusted." She squeezed Edward's hand, and his grip tightened around her fingers in response.

"_I'm hurt, Isabella. I thought we were friends. How can you not trust me?"_

Isabella's nostrils flared, already annoyed with the snarky tone Denali always spit at her. She couldn't help snipping right back. "Because you've always seemed to get off on watching me squirm."

"_Well, what's done is done," _the detective sighed._ "So, where are you? I'll have someone come pick you up."_

"Nice try. You let me know when and where you need me for my testimony, and I'll come to you then and not a minute before." Isabella's knee started bouncing as the phone call proceeded. Her nerves were frayed, trying to get through this conversation and maintain her strong will.

"_Not good enough. My boss wants you in my custody. You don't get to call the shots, young lady._"

"I disagree. I want to do my part and give you my testimony. But I put my life into your hands, and that almost got me gunned down a few months ago." Isabella hissed her words and yanked her hand away, raking it through her hair in a nervous reflex. Edward kept their connection though, by scooting closer to her on the couch and rubbing her back. "I don't feel safe with you; so I'll be coming in on my own when I'm needed in court." Her delivery came out cool and collected.

"_What makes you think tha—" _

Isabella interrupted her. "Because without my testimony, your case isn't half as solid. Recordings, memos . . . it's all circumstantial evidence; a hooker's word against a businessman's—who's never been convicted of a crime. And _that's_ just for the D'Emilias. We both know how screwed you are without anything more from me regarding Whitlock."

"_I don't know, Mrs. Cullen. I'm going to have to get back to you. The trial starts in less than three weeks, and you should've been here since August."_ Isabella could tell the detective was seething on the other end of the line. _"I need to run all of this past my boss."_

"That's fine. I can wait."

Denali cackled. _"You __**are**__ a smartass, Cullen. Give me forty-eight hours, and I'll call you back. So tell me-"_

"Not gonna happen. Make it twenty-four, and I'll call you back."

"_Now, hold on a second."_

Isabella had to laugh, rolling her eyes and feeling emboldened that she'd been on the phone for the last couple of minutes without caving or crying. _This chick thinks I was born yesterday. _"Detective, keeping me on the line isn't going to help you trace my location. Give me a little credit, I'm on a burner. Like I said, I'm willing to keep up my end of the bargain, but on my terms." Edward nodded at her in encouragement. "You'll hear from me tomorrow."

She ended the call, tossing it behind her on the cushion and tucked her head between her legs. "Oh, God."

"Are you all right?" Edward knelt down on the floor, pulling the hair away from her face. "What happened, what'd she say?"

"Not much. Just that she has to talk to her superiors to find out when I need to come in. Whether it was a line or not, I'll never know. But I've never had to negotiate for anything like that before. I used to just name a price and people paid it."

Edward sat back and Isabella flinched, as if the words she threw out so flippantly had burned them both. "I'm sorry."

His half-grin appeared. "I know." He reassured, leaning forward and pulling her into a hug. "We'll get there," he whispered over her shoulder.

**$GREED$**

"Denali said the trial starts again in three weeks." Isabella pushed the cell to the center of the table; she'd placed it on speaker phone so that the three of them could collaborate on the next move.

"_Okay, so the jet will fly you back here, and we'll keep you under wraps until the morning you have to show up."_

"And when it's done?" Edward jumped in. "We all just shake hands and take off? Just assuming that WitSec will keep her safe?" He couldn't hide his anxiety and bitterness.

"_We can always still go with the Alistair method."_

Isabella furrowed her brow. "And what's the Alistair method?" Neither man responded as her gaze bounced between Edward and the phone. Edward's pinched expression had her wringing her hands, concerned about what faced them.

Felix cleared his throat. _"This is your show, Edward."_

"Alistair is our contact from Eton," Edward started, twirling Isabella's coffee mug on the dining room table. "He's the man who gave us all of our Italian citizenship documents."

"Okay." Isabella waited impatiently for the rest of the story. "Is there something more you think he can provide?"

Edward nodded, expelling a breath and visibly frustrated. "I despise the risk that's involved, but yes, there's another route we could take to ensure nobody would come after you ever again."

Rubbing her lips together, she grew annoyed with all the veiled statements and the somber shift the conversation had taken. "Bad news only gets worse with time, guys. Out with it."

Felix chimed in. _"Alistair is extraordinarily tech savvy. Has been ever since he was a kid. A gadget guy multiplied by a thousand." _

"And," Isabella led.

"And his gadgets include life-size machines. Cars, planes—pretty much anything that's remote or computer-controlled . . . or can be." Edward shifted in his seat, locking his stare with Isabella's. "He could stage something. An accident, an explosion . . . something coordinated so that both the good and the bad guys would be convinced you didn't walk away."

"Faking my death—"

"_Our _deaths," Edward interrupted.

"Okay, faking _our_ deaths, except not on paper this time, but in an actual scene." Isabella paused, her mouth agape as she searched for a coherent thought in this surreal sea of improbability. "How do we know that nobody would get hurt?"

Edward scratched the stubble on his jaw before answering. "He assured us there'd be no casualties."

"Yes, but how can he be certain? How do we know that some poor guy walking his dog won't be burned beyond recognition because he was at the wrong place at the wrong time just to save my ass?"

"_He guaranteed us it would be foolproof, Isabella."_

"Guaranteed?" She shook her head, unconvinced. "And we're sure we can trust him?"

"For the money he's been paid so far, and what awaits him if we go through with any version of this scenario, I promise you he'll never breathe a word of it." Edward's fingers ran up and down the bridge of his nose. She knew he didn't like this idea at all, but he must've been grasping at straws at this point.

"_He's a good guy, Isabella. One of my closest friends from back in the day."_

"I can't stand the thought of either of you putting your entire lives on the line for me like this. I mean,"–she flailed her arms around—"could you imagine the shit storm that would rain down on you two, Alistair included, if this fiasco didn't work and we got caught? It's bad enough that I have to live in my own skin, knowing what I've done in the last few years, but to permanently damage your lives? How could I live with myself?"

Neither Edward nor Felix responded, for which she was thankful. There was nothing they could say to counteract her argument. They were risking everything for her. Everything. It seemed a burden too difficult for her to bear.

Mentally exhausted from their ten-minute conference call, Isabella hunched forward over the table, her hands covering and then rubbing across her closed eyes. This was all too much to envision. Testimonies, police escorts, explosions . . . she pondered when this stopped being her life and turned into a double-oh-seven movie.

"I need to think about all of this. Felix," she responded wearily. Edward pierced her with his hypnotic green-eyed gaze once again. "We'll call you back."

"_Anytime. Stay vigilant out there, you two. Things have been good so far, but with the court dates approaching, you can't be too cautious."_

"Agreed," Edward answered. "Talk to you later."

She rose from her seat, a flood of fear and guilt overcoming her. "Will you excuse me?" She barely got out the words before tears threatened again as she sprinted toward the staircase.

**$GREED$**

Edward sat at the dining room table long after Isabella darted from the room. He watched the leaves from the lemon tree rustle beyond the cement wall erected to delineate property lines. Swirling the last of the beer he'd been drinking, he tried to figure out what the logical next step would be.

Leaving Isabella alone for the evening to process all she'd learned might've been the wise choice, but his growing anxiety had him convinced she would remain unmoved. He feared she'd find—and rightfully so—entirely too many 'what ifs' in the plans he tried to persuade her with. She didn't want to ignore the trial, so his idea about erasing them on paper alone wasn't going to fly. Then, the concept of staging an elaborate death scene after she fulfilled her duties to the court seemed abhorrent to her as well.

Edward knew he was losing her with every minute that ticked by; the concept was unbearable. His normal instinct in situations like these would be to retreat to his room, as he had early in the morning, and wait for the unsettling feelings to pass. However, last night as he fell asleep holding Isabella in his arms, he'd promised himself that he needed to let go of his innate reactions and move forward—lunge even—with bold gestures and promises to the person who mattered most in his world.

Bolstered by his internal pep talk, Edward made his way to the second floor in search of Isabella. From the hallway, he could see her leaning against the frame of her balcony door, staring out at the Gulf of Naples, watching the sunset beyond the Tyrrhenian Sea. The storm had ended in the late afternoon, making way for the sun to peek through the streaks of pink and purple clouds, just as it was about to go down for the evening.

He moved forward, hoping not to startle her quiet moment. When she was within his grasp, he reached his arm out, sliding it along her lower back. She shivered, turning to face him.

"I don't know what to do." Her quivering voice was heartbreaking. "I'm so scared for all of us."

"Bella," he whispered, wrapping his other arm around her waist, pulling her into his body. He swept his fingers across the fresh trails her tears left behind. He could drown in the glassy chocolate pools of her eyes, empathizing with her fear of the unknown, of trusting things completely out of your own grasp. His anxiety and need to keep his world dark and alone were his crutch all his adult years. He'd remained paralyzed in that need for too long, but not anymore. Not when she depended on him. She was the weakened vessel in the moment, and he was ready and willing to step up for her, even step in front of her to protect her from whoever wanted to do her harm.

She tucked herself into his chest. No words were spoken. He simply held her, and she let him. He could only imagine the turmoil she wrestled in her head, in her heart. It was imperative for him to show her that he'd be there every step of the way and never back down.

Minutes passed before she pulled her head away and their eyes locked.

"You called me Bella."

"Yes." He swallowed tightly. It wasn't a mistake, and he hoped she wasn't offended. The last time he'd called her by her childhood nickname, their night and the subsequent events took a disastrous turn. This evening though, things were vastly different from almost nine months ago. And the fact remained that so much of what they had in front of them was, in fact, beautiful: the sunset in the distance, the view of Mount Vesuvius from her balcony, the fact that they were living in Italy in a five-bedroom villa . . . and of course, simply her. _She_ was beautiful. She was breathtaking, and he couldn't pull his eyes away from her for all that he was worth. "Is that all right?"

She nodded, ever so faintly, allowing him to relax even more in her embrace. They stared into each other's eyes for what seemed like hours before his gaze drifted down her face. Her lips . . . plump, pink ribbons, allowing the sweetest breath to push past and brush along his neck. They were too tempting to ignore. He couldn't help himself, and he tipped his head down, opening his mouth, and capturing her upper lip in a slow, soft kiss.

They both froze in that moment, a perfect image. A man and woman kissing on a balcony, overlooking the setting sun in a picturesque snapshot. His lips began to dust along hers, and he moved his hands up her sides and into her hair to pull the rubber band from its hold. Her thick locks spilled over his arms as he cupped the back of her head and brought her mouth to his more forcefully.

Isabella's hands slid up his back, gripping him at his shoulder blades, telling him she was ready for more. He slipped his tongue past her lips, and hers joined in the sultry dance. They kissed and kissed and kissed, until breathing became a chore and he pulled his mouth away. Watching the way her chest heaved, the way she licked the taste of his kiss from her lips, the way her fierce stare promised him she wanted everything he was ready to offer her, enabled him to claim her without hesitating. He intended to prove to her that he'd be the only man she'd ever need, in every way that mattered.

What waited for them back in Texas was unpredictable and frightening, here . . . tonight . . . he'd calm her fears, hold her close, and take the next step in his promise of forever.

Without taking his eyes from her, he pulled the bottom of her sweater up and over her head, her hair cascading down across her shoulders. She allowed herself a shy smile and reached for his shirt. Starting from the bottom, she flicked open each button, making her way up until her fingers danced across his chest and over his shoulders, lifting his shirt away from his chiseled physique in the process.

It fell to the ground, just before he threw his arm around her waist and pressed their bodies together. Another pull from her lips, another push from his, and another and another. He started to move his mouth down her jaw, her neck . . . to just below her ear.

"I want you so badly." He placed an open-mouthed kiss on her pulse point, licking and nipping to the soundtrack of her responding whimper. "Can I have you, Bella?" The desire he felt for her was amplified in the gruffness of his voice.

"Please," she whispered, her hands gripping his biceps while her chest rubbed along his. "Please, take me."

Her words came out as a plea, and he searched out her gaze again. He grinned when she opened her eyes to his, scraping his teeth over her bottom lip after hearing her request.

"You'll never have to ask again." He walked them back to her bed, covering her body with his after they crawled to the middle of the mattress together.

When the remainder of their clothes had been tossed to the floor, Edward's hands meandered down the naked swells and dips of her slight body. He took his time trailing his hands across her breasts, the pads of his fingers passing over her nipples which, constricted even more at his touch. Placing kisses along the soft skin of her belly, nipping his way down the curves of her hips . . . these were dreams he'd been having for months, even years, and he was able to take his time and make it happen.

Edward worshipped her in every sense of the word. He needed her to know that she was worth it, worth every penny, every heart ache, every anxiety attack . . . all he ever wanted was right here with her. As long as they were together, the rest wouldn't matter.

Her thighs rubbed together while she squirmed under his teasing touch.

"Edward, please . . ." she begged again. There was so much to discover about her. So many ways they'd be able to explore each other intimately, but right now, he was desperate to be inside her, feel her surrounding him, while he drowned himself in her endless kisses.

He crawled back up her body and found her mouth again with his. Sweeping his fingers at the wetness that gathered between her legs, he grasped his cock, lined them up and pushed inside as they sighed into each other's mouths.

Isabella wrapped her legs around his muscular thighs while he pumped into her over and over. His tongue flicked and massaged hers as she lifted her hips to meet his strokes. Finding her hands tearing at the pillow case under her head, he threaded his fingers through hers and dragged them up to either side of her head.

He pulled his mouth away from hers, lifting his head to stare at her gorgeous face. She was flushed, lips swollen, mouth open as the air she expelled became the same air he took in. He watched, mesmerized, as the desire in her eyes started to fade, replaced by pools of gathering tears.

Edward froze, terrified she was regretting the moment they were sharing. He feared asking her what was wrong, but he'd always want to know what she was thinking . . . and in the middle of their love-making, he'd make no exception. Her feelings would always be his top priority.

"What is it? Am I hurting you?"

She shook her head, freeing the tears that spilled down her temples. "No," she gasped, "but I'll never forgive myself for hurting you. Edward, I . . . I lo—"

He dipped his mouth to hers, taking her words from her lips in a kiss. Pulling away again, he realized he didn't mean to smile, and he certainly didn't want to diminish her feelings, but he meant what he said about them only looking forward. They deserved a fresh start and an unblemished path. He'd gladly travel that road with her, if only she'd stop castigating herself for what happened in the past.

"No more tears, beautiful Bella." He shook his head. "Just let me give you forever." His mouth found hers, and he tugged on her bottom lip again with his teeth. "Give yourself permission to be happy."

Her inner walls squeezed him and he groaned, leaning down to kiss her hard, claiming her again. He began to move faster, plunging into her, eliciting a string of moans and sighs from her lips . . . some he swallowed, some he allowed to ring in his ear.

"Oh . . . there. Fuck, right there." Her voice was saturated with pleasure, making his heart rate skyrocket. He felt his orgasm building. Unable to hold back any longer, he ground his pelvis into hers and buried his face in the sweet skin of her neck. Crying out when he found his release, he thrust into her a few more times as her arms wrapped around his shoulders and her mouth sought out his.

Her tongue swirled around his in a passionate kiss until he twisted his body to the side, and they lay next to each other, catching their breath and exchanging soft pecks and smiles.

Edward brought his hand up again to dry her tear-stained skin. She slid one of her legs between his and he wrapped his lower leg around hers, bringing their heated bodies flush.

"Anything you want. Whatever you need," he pledged, met by her nods. "I just need you to say the word." Bringing her hand up to his mouth, he delicately kissed each fingertip. "I don't want to say goodbye . . . but this has to be your decision, Bella."

She leaned in, gently kissing his lips once, twice and a lingering third time.

"Whatever you decide, my feelings for you won't change," he whispered. "And I'll wait for you. That I can promise. Rest now."

His mouth found hers once more before she nestled her head into his chest, tucked under his chin. He drifted toward sleep, confident in knowing he'd laid it all on the line. His heart was hers, and he felt peace knowing she held the key.

* * *

**A/N: Massive thanks all around to my incredible Team _GREED_: Lay, Hoodie, Born, Cejsmom and my sensational beta, Momo. They're there for me day and night with corrections, suggestions, and THE most impeccable Italian translations ever! ;) Love you all so much. Enormous thanks as well to my readers and reviewers . . . I hope you know how much I appreciate you sticking with me for this bumpy ride!**

**Major/minor Facebook name catastrophe over the weekend which will heretofore be known as Yummygate. Bottom line, I'm still there but under my actual, horrendously generic, real life name, Jennifer White. Robsmyyummy Cabanaboy is listed as my nickname, so you can still find me if you type that into the search engine. I'll always be your Yummy, though. **

**Final chapter will post next week with an epilogue to follow. **

**xo, Jen**


	21. Chapter 21

**$GREED$**

"This is it, you two. I'll go into the station and let Denali know you're here." Felix shifted the car into park, offering a sad smile. "Give you a few more minutes alone."

"Thanks, Felix," Isabella whispered, her head resting on her right hand. Her left was held firmly in Edward's, where it had been almost every minute since they arrived from Sorrento three days earlier. She felt her eyes welling as she rehearsed what she'd planned to say one more time.

"Listen, even if . . ." she started, but had to take a deep breath when Edward turned to her, his forest-green eyes mesmerizing her yet again. "Even if things get crazy and we can't meet up over the next few weeks, or however long the trial lasts, please know that I'll be wishing I were back in Sorrento with you every second of the day."

He nodded, a wistful smile on his face, but he remained quiet. Isabella knew how hard it was for him to let her go. He'd been dreading this goodbye . . . they both had.

"I'll call you when I can," she vowed, grabbing both of his hands in hers. "Hopefully we can set up our first visit for a few days from now." She attempted a cheerful tone, but it fell flat.

"Sounds good."

They got lost in each other's gazes, a myriad of memories unspoken but treasured. They'd come so far from where they'd been. Countless drops of blood, sweat and tears had been shed to bring them back into each other's arms as friends—even best friends—turned lovers.

Edward brought his hand to her cheek and she leaned into it, relishing his touch, savoring it. After a few moments, he pulled her head towards his, pressing their foreheads together.

"Felix and I will keep working on things." His voice sounded gravelly. She nodded, a tear crawling down her cheek. "It's not ideal and definitely not conventional, but then again, when have we ever taken the boring road?"

She snorted, playfully smacking his hand. "Don't make me laugh. We're having a moment here."

He winked at her, tilting his head to kiss her gently on the forehead. He spotted Detective Denali and Felix walking toward the car. "Our time's up," he groused before placing his lips to hers and deepening a kiss that had to last them and undetermined amount of time.

"I'll miss you, _Ernesto_." Her declaration felt so freeing. "I kinda loved being married to you."

This time her words elicited a genuine smile from him as he captured her mouth again, melding his lips to hers, their tongues languidly massaging each other's. She put all of her feelings into that kiss. Her fears, her hopes . . . her love for him.

Moments later, he pulled away so they could catch their breath. Sweeping the tears from under her eyes, he spoke, his voice low and laced with desire, "Well, we'll see what we can arrange for the future, _Bianca_. Because I've gotta tell you, _Signora Carbone," _he moved his mouth to whisper next to her ear. _"E' stato il mio privilegio più grande, anche solo far finta di essere tuo marito_." He stroked her cheek with the backs of his fingers, telling her it was his greatest privilege to even pretend to be her husband. Pressing his lips softly to hers, he continued,_ "Le nostre sette settimane in Italia hanno cambiato la mia vita." _

"Mine too,"she breathed against him, knowing how their seven weeks in Italy changed her life as well, and all for the better, despite the harrowing circumstances_. _

He cupped her face in his strong hands and further vowed, "_E appena potrò farlo di nuovo, ti porterò__ ancora via con me, per farti mia, veramente mia...per sempre_." The intensity in his eyes matched his pledge to her that when they were able, he'd whisk her away to make her really and truly his, forever.

She let out a sob, overcome by his perfect words before making him promise, _"Me lo prometti?"_

"_Promesso," _he assured, sealing it with a last kiss.

**$GREED$**

Edward woke with a start and jumped off his bed when he heard Felix bellowing his name from the living room.

"You up?" Felix appeared in the doorway. "I tried calling you twice since I left Dallas. Everything okay?"

Edward scrubbed his hands down his face, calming his racing heart, sitting back on the bed again. "Yeah. Managed to crash for a couple hours."

"So, what's that bring the total to? Ten hours in the last five days?" Felix teased, leaning against the door frame. Light-hearted moments were hard to come by these days.

"Sounds about right." Edward rubbed the heels of his hands over his closed eyes. "So, what's the latest?"

His friend approached, removing an envelope from his suit pocket. "Here."

"Sure do hope this is a love note." Edward unfolded the paper, still studying Felix, who wasn't joking anymore. The air seized in his lungs when he read the eerie message.

**It would be in Mrs. Cullen's best interest to remain quiet  
in the next phase of the court proceedings. Many are watching.  
She was always an intelligent girl. Tell her to stay that way.**

Edward's stomach churned after rereading it for the second time. "How did you get this? And when?"

"Delivered to the office . . . anonymously. Dropped at the lobby desk sometime after lunch." Felix sat on the edge of the bed. "Somebody who knows she's a smart girl?" he repeated.

"Fucking Whitlock," Edward hissed. "Has to be."

Both men studied the paper before them, neither with any calming resolution entering their thoughts.

"What do you want to do?"

Edward covered his eyes with his palm, his fingers pressing into both temples. After several deep breaths, he pulled his hand away and stared out his window at the shimmering lights of the Austin skyline. The contrast of the sparkling brightness against the indigo night blurred his vision. "Nothing. We can't tell her about this, either. Edward thought back to the moment that anonymous email had pinged into his box.

**Student turned whore turned Mary Magdalene . . . which one is warming your bed, Mr. Masen?**

After he showed Felix, he alerted Alistair, who kicked into high gear to see if the message could be traced. He withdrew from the image of the email on the computer screen to finish his train of thought. "I think we both learned our lesson with the email from two days ago."

"Yeah, but that one took a different approach. It could've been from any of them. Shit, it could've been from a pissed off client of hers," Felix added.

"Right, but when we told her about it, she had a full-blown panic attack at the hotel!" Edward roared, storming toward the kitchen. He paused at the island, raking his hands through his hair, teetering on the brink of his own massive anxiety attack, complete with tears, which had only ever happened once before in his entire life. Bella was the reason his tears had fallen in February, and she was again the reason they were threatening to fall now. All he wanted to do was keep her out of harm's way, but her dedication to making things right was going to be the slow death of him, and probably Felix, too. He opened his fridge and pulled out two beers, passing one over. "Sorry," Edward grumbled. "I didn't mean to shout at you. But I can't do that to her . . . not again."

"I know," Felix responded, frustration pouring off him in waves. "At least Claudia was with her to calm her down last time."

"Anyway, we can't tell her about this one. It helps nothing, and she's under twenty-four hour guard for the duration of the trial, if anything." Edward twisted the cap off and chugged half his bottle. "I fucking hate that we couldn't keep her until the last minute."

"She negotiated as best she could. The lawyers needed time to go over her testimony again."

Edward clenched his jaw, nodding. He knew the reason she was no longer in his apartment, but he didn't have to like it.

"So, what now?" Felix questioned, slumping into a dining room chair.

Edward stared at his best friend, wishing he had all the answers, but he felt just as helpless as Felix. "We wait . . . and we hope."

**$GREED$**

Another week and a half passed without incident, until Claudia—shaking like a leaf, and in the midst of uncontrollable sobbing—appeared at Felix's door.

"Okay, slow down, love," Felix hugged her close while Edward poured two fingers of Jack Daniel's to calm her. Her petite body stopped quivering and she relaxed into his embrace. "That's it." Felix nodded in encouragement, feigning a small smile of pride. Truth was, he was wrecked.

She took several deep breaths and wiped her face with a tissue. Edward placed the glass of whiskey in front of her, squeezing her shoulder in support.

"Start from the beginning," Edward whispered, sliding into the chair next to her. "When you're ready."

Claudia looked between both men. "I was jogging my usual route at Lady Bird Lake. A group of cyclists had just blown past me, and one of the last guys pulled over to the side as I was coming up. Looked like he was messing with his gears or something." Grabbing another tissue, she wiped at her nose again. "He gave me a wave as I approached, and I returned it, but I kept going." She stopped to take a sip of the drink, followed by another deep breath. "It was probably fifteen minutes later, when I had stopped to stretch and cool down. I was drinking my water and the same cyclist was walking his bike up the path. We exchanged barely a few sentences. 'Nice day, gorgeous weather, hope it lasts,' . . . that sort of thing. He seemed friendly and unassuming. Young guy, no older than us. Next thing I know, he moved to get onto his bike again, but while he's buckling his helmet, he said, "If your friend Isabella has any hope of seeing another beautiful day like this, she better come down with amnesia before the week is over. We were under the impression she'd stay quiet, and yet she continues to tell her tale."

"Mother fuck," Edward growled, his hands in fists at his forehead. "Anything else?"

Claudia swept another tear from her cheek. "I started to back up but he just called out again and said, 'Enjoy the rest of your day'." She turned to Felix. "I couldn't stay there any longer. I was terrified somebody was about to jump out and grab me." Her voice trembled in time with the quaking of her hands.

Felix shook his head. "No, Cee. You did fine. C'mere." Kneeling next to her chair, he pulled her into another hug, shushing her and rubbing her back. Isabella had been safe this whole time. Almost three weeks had passed since she was in the custody of the Feds; not only testifying for the D'Emilia trial, but also giving depositions for the mounting case against Senator Whitlock. Even with those previous threats in the letter and Edward's email, nothing had happened. And now this, less than a week before the D'Emilia trial was ending.

Felix looked over her shoulder at Edward. "What are you thinking?"

"I think today's message came from D'Emilia, if the guy said they want her to shut up before the week's over. I bet the letter was from Whitlock, though . . . email probably was, too. " Edward grabbed Claudia's glass and slammed back the remainder of the liquor. "Maybe they're working together, maybe they aren't. Not a word to Bella though, hear me?" They nodded as Edward stood from the chair. He yanked open the hall closet and tugged a sport coat from its hanger. Heading for his room, he roared, "I'm done with this shit! Thursday can't fucking come soon enough!"

**$GREED$**

Edward's eyes glazed over, having stared too long at the gaudy framed picture on the wall of the Royal Inn. He was in no way a snob, but he was done with Bella being put up in these no-tell motels. First it was a hotel in Plano, which had been respectable enough until it was overrun with media. Then she was shipped to an inconspicuous motel in Irving, but some housekeeper tipped off a journalist, and Isabella got swarmed exiting the building. After that, it was a Motel 6 in Northlake, with the same fucking result as the Irving motel. Finally, last week they stuck her in a less-than-secure motel outside Duncanville, claiming hiding in plain sight might be her safest bet. Edward balked, but his opinion was of no consequence to the authorities. The media weren't the only reason they bounced her around, but he tried not to dwell on that.

He draped his arm over Isabella's slender waist and began tracing small patterns around her navel. Humming, she nestled into the blankets deeper before pulling his open palm to her mouth, and kissing it tenderly. She placed his hand over her heart and held it there. He could feel the steady thumping under the soft skin, though he wasn't sure if it was residual adrenaline from their recent love-making or the fact that today was the final day of her testimony in court. He tucked his legs behind hers, melding their bodies together in the perfect spoon.

"Almost over, baby." Edward's morning voice still sounded groggy even though he'd been up most of the night. Scenarios raced through his mind, some fantastic, some terrifying . . . and all equally plausible, given what they'd been through to date. "You know that even if you can't see me, I'm with you, right?"

The slight movement of her head rustled the pillowcase before she whispered, "I know."

Dusting his lips along the creamy skin of her shoulder, he whispered. "We'll be together soon, Bella. Just be strong."

"Trying."

They lay there in silence until the phone on the nightstand jangled obnoxiously. The second of the two calls they expected this morning. Bella pressed the orange speakerphone button.

"Yes?"

"_Lobby in thirty minutes, Mrs. Cullen. I'll be personally escorting you to the courthouse this morning."_

"I'll be ready."

Detective Denali disconnected the call and Bella reached to hang up her end. Edward had come to despise that woman's voice over the last several weeks. It grated on him like nails scraping down a chalkboard. He was thankful that—if all went as planned—after today, he'd never have to hear it again.

Isabella twisted her body, forcing Edward onto his back in the process. She crawled on top of him, her warm, naked skin pressed against his. While his hands came to rest on her pert ass, she trailed her fingers through the scruff of his jaw, kissing him deeply, stirring his arousal once more.

"I love you, Edward."

His left hand moved up to stroke her face, tucking back some of her hair that danced along his chest, tickling him.

"I love you." Lifting his head, he captured her tempting lips again and again, wishing their moment could last, but painfully aware of the chaos on the horizon. His head fell back into the pillow as he swallowed the gravel that seemed to be lodged in his throat and reassured her once more. "Soon. You and me . . ." –his mouth found hers again—". . . forever."

**$GREED$**

"How is she?" Felix asked from the driver's seat while Edward slammed the car door and buckled his seat belt.

"Rattled. Even more than I am, I think. And that's saying something," Edward huffed, looking out the window of Felix's car, thrilled to finally be leaving motel-visitation life behind. It made him feel seedy. Like his time with Isabella was a conjugal visit and nothing more. "How about you? Anything in the last fifteen hours?"

"No. I stayed at the office until six and then went back to my hotel room. Claudia's still a little shaken up."

"I can imagine." Edward shook his head in blind rage. "I'm so fucking sorry. You know Bella's gonna kill us that we didn't tell her."

Felix shrugged, easy onto the freeway. "I get it. Telling Bella would've only made her even more irrational than she's been. All we need to do is get through today. So far they've only been threats. We haven't seen anything to indicate that somebody intended to follow through. It's all about scare tactics."

"Like goddamn terrorists," Edward spewed. "Trying to stop you from doing anything in your life, just preying on your fear."

"Exactly. I know it's sucked having Isabella away from you for the last month, but at least the Feds have kept her alive so far without any major catastrophes."

Edward blanched. "Your glass-is-half-full approach is like a ray of sunshine to my soul," he said dryly. "Any other gems you'd like to toss my way?"

Felix blew out an emotionally exhausted breath. "Nope. All tapped out at this point. Just trying to make it through to the other side."

Edward scrubbed his hands back and forth along his thighs as they entered the parking garage for the courthouse. "I hear ya."

**$GREED$**

"So . . . looking forward to your new life?"

Isabella rolled her eyes, peering out the tinted window of the Expedition. "Yeah. Really excited to know you're stashing me in West Bumblefuck, USA."

"Hey, better than three to five at FPC Bryan." Denali patted Isabella's hand and continued to speak, condescension dripping from every word. "You'll be fine. Once you get there you'll meet with the liaison who'll set you up with your probationary requirements and anything further you'll need to provide for the Whitlock case. Where you're headed is a pretty sweet gig if you ask me."

"Mhmm."

"Unfortunately, our relationship ends today, but if you ever run into trouble and can't track down the people assigned to you out there, give me a call." Denali passed her business card to Isabella. "Just don't go calling your bestie again. Next time, it'll probably get you all killed."

"No closer to getting killed than with your crack team of agents out in Lockhart, Detective."

Denali's smile curled like the Grinch's, more menacing than ever. "We did our best. We'd do it again."

"Yup, that's what worries me."

Before Denali had a chance to respond, her phone rang.

"Excuse me," she addressed Isabella before putting the phone to her ear. "Denali. Yes. On our way now. Shouldn't be an issue." She glanced at Isabella who suddenly felt on edge. "Be there in five." The detective sent out another quick text and then pocketed her phone.

"Sorry about that. Anyway, will Edward be in court with you today?"

"That's the plan."

"Well, the car will drive him to the station outside the city where we'll set you up on the next leg of your adventure. You'll be able to say your goodbyes there without the media hounding you." She tapped her burgundy fingernails on the laptop she was holding. "It'll be about a fourteen-hour car ride, so prepare yourself. And you'll be changing cars several times along the way."

Isabella nodded. "I know. You told me all of this already."

"Just making sure you remember the plan. We do this to ensure you're not followed."

"Yeah, well . . . I hope it works better the second time around. I really don't want to have the lives of more dead agents on my conscience because of your screw-ups."

Denali's brow rose slowly to a point as she sneered. "Watch yourself, Isabella. You're testing my patience."

Isabella remained quiet, not wanting to egg the bitch on any further. This wasn't a battle worth fighting. Before it was all said and done, she had to trust that she and Edward would be together, and that was all that mattered.

**$GREED$**

After the judge called a recess for the day, Isabella—who'd fulfilled all of her testimony requirements in the case against the D'Emilia family—was escorted from the building by her guards. They ushered her into the same black Expedition, while Edward was also driven in a separate car—with Felix and Claudia in a third vehicle—to an undisclosed location within the jurisdiction of the Young County Sheriff's office.

It was time for the friends to part. Isabella and Claudia hugged for a solid minute, both women shedding tears and pledging their friendship and love to each other. Brought together by chaotic circumstances, Isabella had grown to rely on Claudia as a confidante, almost a sister. Claudia felt the same way, since she had no sisters but was surrounded by seven brothers. When they pulled apart, Claudia held out a chain with a pendant for Isabella.

"An Italian horn." She dropped the delicate necklace and charm into Isabella's open palm. "To ward off any evil that might try to find you."

Isabella nodded, her glassy eyes spilling more tears. "Thank you," she whispered. "I'll miss you, Cee."

Behind them, Felix waited patiently to say his goodbye. When Claudia stepped back, Felix gathered Isabella into his arms and rocked her as she sobbed into his chest. When she had no more tears to cry, she looked up at her friend, the one man who'd stood by her from the beginning of the mess right until the end.

"I don't know what to say," she croaked. "You mean so much to me; I don't know if you'll ever understand that."

A tear rolled down the side of Felix's cheek as he kissed the top of her head, unable to pull away. Eventually, he cleared his throat. "You stay safe out there, kid."

She nodded and reached for Edward's hand. He threaded his fingers through hers, ready to pull her toward the garage where a lineup of nondescript SUVs waited for them.

"This is where we say farewell, Mrs. Cullen. You'll be taken to another drop-off after this one. We'll make sure Mr. Masen gets back to the courthouse safely after you've said your goodbyes at the next destination."

Isabella nodded. Though it pained both of them, Edward and Isabella shook Detective Denali's hand before turning for the enormous garage.

"Just give me a buzz when you get back to Dallas, Edward," Felix called out. "We'll wait there for you."

Edward waved to his friend, thankful to have such a steadfast ally.

"This is one of the hardest days of my life," Isabella whimpered as Edward wrapped his arm around her waist, leading her away from their friends.

"I know, baby. We're gonna get through this." He kissed her tenderly under her ear. "_Promesso."_

The crowd watched Edward and Isabella disappear behind the aluminum wall of the garage. Five other black Expeditions pulled past all of them and entered the garage as decoy cars, set up to throw off any potential tails intent on harming Isabella. And so began the final phase of witness protection protocol.

Felix, Claudia, Detective Denali, her driver, the Young County Sheriff and his deputy watched a string of cars pull out of the bays. The vehicles stayed close until the caravan reached a crossroad where some paired off and others went on as singles, all heading in different directions.

The sun was setting while the onlookers started to move toward their own vehicles. Moments later, a ground-rumbling boom exploded in the distance. Plumes of smoke and bursts of flames overwhelmed the scene. One tailing SUV screeched to a stop, and two men in suits rushed out to attempt to help.

Felix wailed in horror and ran toward the wreckage. Claudia dropped to her knees, covering her eyes and screaming, while Denali dialed her phone frantically. Officers rushed the scene, but to no avail.

A very clear message had been sent: Isabella Cullen wouldn't be talking anymore.

* * *

**A/N: All my thanks and hugs to members of Team _GREED_ who drop everything and get these chapters read, tweaked and perfected in time for our weekly Sinful Sunday posts. So much love to all my readers who've stuck by me through this story, and extra Yummy squeezes to those who've left me their thoughts along the way. It means so much to hear from you!**

**Epilogue will post next week, sweet friends.**

**xo, Jen**

**PS- Hope you're either writing for or intending to read the stories for our Caveat Emptor: Maybe an HEA? Contest. Come find us on Twitter, Facebook or follow us under the writer name: Maybe an HEA Contest here on this site. Submissions being accepted through May 15th.**


	22. Chapter 22

**$GREED$**

After the horrific explosion on Route 16 outside Graham, Texas, which took the young lives of Edward Anthony Masen and Isabella Swan Cullen, monumental changes occurred for many of the key players once considered synonymous with the victims.

The deaths were never pinned to any culprit, nor did anyone ever take responsibility for the tragedy. The Federal Witness Protection case simply closed, and the authorities moved on.

Senator Jasper Whitlock endured embarrassing federal hearings, where he was accused and found guilty of corruption, pandering, tax evasion, and extortion. Stripped of his Senate seat, he currently awaits sentencing. Gianni D'Emilia was found guilty of committing numerous RICO violations and began serving an eight-year prison term in a federal detention center in Houston, shortly after the death of the woman responsible for bringing him to justice.

After inheriting a substantial amount of wealth, Renee Swan's life became unrecognizable. She'd been named sole beneficiary on Isabella Cullen's life insurance policy, and discovered she'd been listed as joint account holder for all of her daughter's overseas funds. Felix Daniels and his fiancée, Claudia Angiello, moved to Dallas once Felix stepped into the role of president of Cullen Oil, as specified in the terms of Edward Masen's last will and testament.

Several months later, following the sudden deaths of the victims and the ensuing public and political turmoil, Emmett Cullen was summoned to the office of the new president of the oil company.

The phone on Felix's desk buzzed. _"Mr. Daniels, Mr. Cullen is here to see you."_

"Thank you, Bree. Send him in." Felix stood, staring out his floor-to-ceiling windows and chuckling at the traffic and mayhem caused by the flurries that had fallen since late morning. Dallas winters were never anything to write home to Boston about, but at least they were entertaining. It wasn't every day you saw a city paralyzed by a quarter of an inch of snow on the ground.

"Mr. Daniels?"

"Emmett, come on in. And please call me Felix," he scolded, jokingly. "We've discussed this before. You're only a year older than I am."

Emmett huffed and smiled, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I'll start next time."

"Good." Felix extended his arm, pointing to the leather couch. "Have a seat." Both men unbuttoned their suit jackets and sat, elbows on knees, ready to talk business.

"Before you begin, I just wanted to again tell you how sorry I am over the loss of Mr. Masen. I know he'd been your good friend."

Felix swallowed tightly with a pinched smile. "The best kind. Thank you."

"We'd only spoken on the phone a handful of times. I'm sorry I never got to meet him in person."

Felix sat forward, pouring two glasses of scotch. "He spoke highly of you, Emmett." Felix handed over the drink. "He'd always been very impressed with your work ethic, the knowledge, and expertise you brought to the table."

The men held up their glasses while Emmett toasted. "Thank you, sir. To Mr. Masen."

Felix quirked his brow and sipped, amused by Emmett's conditioned response to respect those in authority. He knew this guy had been mortified time and time again. First, he lost out to Edward. Then, he didn't get named sole heir to the Cullen Oil fortune after his father's passing a year earlier.

"It's imperative that I continue to travel to see that Mr. Masen's investments don't fall apart now that he's gone, which is why I've asked you here today. I'd like to offer you the position of Vice President and sell you a portion of the company . . . that is, if you're interested."

Emmett—caught mid-sip—coughed up what alcohol remained in his throat. Felix snickered.

"You all right?"

Emmett pounded on his chest. "Yes, yes, sir. Felix"—he shook his head—"sorry, you've more than caught me off guard." He gasped again through a chortle, appearing stunned. "I'd love it, love to. I—I—I'm honored, and I promise you I'm up to the task."

Felix held up his glass again. "I know you are. And if I may . . . I know you recognized me last year when I started coming here after Mr. Masen bought the company."

Emmett's eyes widened, a blush crossing his dimpled cheeks. "I did." He fiddled with his coaster, spinning it on the table. "You were Isabella's driver."

"I was." Felix nodded. "She was a dear friend of mine. Her loss has been just as painful for me."

Emmett clasped his hands, his thumbs tapping together. "I said some pretty awful things to her last year after the reading of my dad's will." He sighed, appearing disheartened. "I'd take them back if I could. I may not have agreed with her ethics, not that I'd been the authority on morality at the time, but she didn't deserve what happened all last year, all of the public scrutiny and especially how things ended for her." He glanced off to the side. "She was . . . special. I'm sorry you lost your friend."

"Thank you." Felix cleared the emotion thickening in his throat. "I just wanted you to know that when I spent a little bit of time with her last fall, she only had good things to say about you, and she hoped you got what you deserved both in your personal life and your career."

Emmett dipped his chin, a reserved smile on his lips.

"Anyway, I can't do much for your personal life, but I think she'd be happy to know what's happened here today. You've more than earned this," Felix assured, standing up.

Emmett leapt out of the chair and reached his hand out to shake Felix's. "That means a lot; I appreciate it. Promise I won't let you down."

"Glad to hear it." Felix grinned, happy that the last of Isabella and Edward's wishes was in place.

After Emmett left his office, Felix dialed his fiancée's salon in midtown and spoke to the receptionist who answered. "Claudia, please." He was placed on hold, certain the mystical spa music was about to put him in a trance.

"_Tranquility, this is Claudia. How can we help you escape today?"_

Felix chuckled, his excitement brewing at a fever pitch. "You can meet me at our house in two hours and make sure your bags are fully packed. We have a date at a little, authentic Italian restaurant I think you're gonna love."

**$GREED$**

"_Grazie mille, Armando."_ Isabella thanked the young waiter, who'd driven over the catered trays from _Cucina Carbone._ _"Ci vediamo domani sera"._

"_Prego, Signora. Buona sera."_

Isabella came back to the dining room and started unwrapping the trays of food she'd ordered from their restaurant. She could've made them herself, knowing her recipes like the back of her hand, but she wanted to enjoy the opportunity to entertain her guests this week rather than be stuck in the kitchen, slaving over the stove and oven.

It had been over three months since Edward made good on his promise to whisk her away forever. Though he gave her the choice to go anywhere in the world, Isabella knew they were meant to be in Italy. It was where she rediscovered the modicum of goodness that remained in her soul after her selfish world fell apart last year. There in Italy, she reconciled who she had been with who she wanted to be, healing herself of the twisted need to always gain more, while realizing what she had with Edward was all that she needed. Italy was where she fell in love with him, and ultimately where she realized there might be a chance she could someday fall in love with herself.

The elaborate plan that brought them back to Italy had been executed flawlessly. A row of identical black SUVs with tinted windows lined the enormous Young County garage in separate bays on the day of her final transfer. Drivers remained in each car, never knowing if their vehicle truly held the witness and her temporary guest, who'd only been slated to go to the next destination. Each agent listened for the car door, and after they heard the alert from the radio that it was their turn to depart, the metal bay door lifted. One by one, each car exited the garage seamlessly, taking off to the specific destination–unknown to them—plugged into the GPS. It made it more than easy to slip the remote-controlled car into the caravan. Edward and Isabella, following the instructions they'd received that morning in her motel, had climbed into the SUV in the bay furthest from the entrance. It was driven by a man Alistair worked closely with in the States. Alistair had hacked into the federal system to learn the protocol backward and forward and had no trouble detonating from his nearby location, undetected. Minutes later, a spectacular act of pyrotechnics occurred, allowing the couple to escape unnoticed. The explosion had been so massive, the fire so hot, that whatever human remains Alistair had planted within the now-charred frame of the car were burned beyond recognition, and therefore unidentifiable. Chaos ensued; all the other vehicles were called back to the scene and accounted for. All of them, except the additional SUV which headed straight for the Texas coast. It wasn't until Edward and Isabella heard from Felix later that night that they started to breathe a little easier, realizing that Alistair's display worked, and they were about to be free. They arrived at a marina in Kemah, where a newly purchased yacht had been moored, ready to take them across the Gulf to Tampa. They remained on the yacht until Sunday morning and then found their private jet waiting—fueled and ready—to fly them to Rome.

All of the banking paperwork had been put in place weeks earlier, naming Renee beneficiary and joint-account holder for Isabella's monies, and Felix in charge of Edward's multiple accounts and business ventures. Everyone they loved would've been taken care of, if somehow they hadn't made it out of the escape plan with breath still in their lungs.

Once on terra firma again after landing in Rome, they drove the familiar route back to the hills of Sorrento, where Edward surprised Bella with an official welcome home gift in the form of a four-bedroom villa all their own. Complete with a solarium, which housed a luxurious in-ground pool and hot tub, and a retractable roof allowing them to enjoy the sun on pleasant days or pool time even in the pouring rain. The acre of property boasted an enormous vegetable and herb garden for Bella to cultivate, alongside the small lemon grove she was eager to manage. It was paradise, as far as she was concerned.

Isabella knew she'd never wholly deserve the life she was living, but she spent every minute of the day being thankful for it nonetheless.

"How can I help?" Renee walked into the dining room sipping her Merlot. "Damn, this place smells delicious. And these are your recipes? Like really?"

Isabella smiled. "Mostly, yeah. I mean, there are a few of Claudia's family recipes on our menu—and we send them some of the profits—but the rest are mine and Edward's. I got pretty handy in the kitchen when we were in Sorrento last fall."

"Can't believe you and Edward own a quiet little restaurant. It's beyond perfect for the life you have now." She put her wine glass down on the credenza. "But, is it really safe for the two of you to be out and about, though?"

"Well, remember it's _Bianca_ and _Ernesto_ who own the place. Edward still doesn't feel totally comfortable being out all the time, but he found the place for us, and hired a couple of cooks and a few people for the wait staff in the beginning to get us going. I met with the chefs to give them the recipes we wanted to use, and they shared some of their signature dishes with us." She grabbed the tongs to toss the garden salad. "That's how we came up with the menu. I've always worn my glasses and a wig when dealing with them . . . but we've also kept extremely close watch on any news coverage ever since November. I'm not international news-worthy. Maybe it made international CNN or BBC coverage in the day or two after it happened . . . but ever since then?" Isabella shook her head. "We're not worried at all. That chapter is closed," Isabella assured, still breathing a sigh of relief, knowing how differently it all could've turned out.

Renee came over and wrapped her arm around her daughter's shoulders. "I'm really proud of you. It's no secret that I've never been a model mother—"

Isabella couldn't help the snort that interrupted. "Nor I a model daughter, Mom."

Renee bumped her hip into Isabella's. "As I was saying, I'm extremely proud of who you are today, and I'm so sorry I wasn't there to show you the ropes of this crazy life."

"Stop, Mom." Isabella shook her head. "We're okay. I'm fine, and I made it. I have a life that I'm excited to live every day. A loving, generous, beautiful man who's proud to call me his." She smiled, catching his eye from the pool deck when he sent her a wink. "I'm lucky beyond measure."

"Edward does seem pretty fantastic," Renee cooed, looking out where Edward and Felix were relaxing with a cooler full of beer.

"Hey!" Isabella snapped her fingers in front of her mom's face. "Eyes over here, cougar. He's taken!" she scolded, her mirth obvious.

Renee winked and waggled her eyebrows. "_Ernesto Carbone_ is a mighty fine catch, my dear _Bianca_."

"Don't I know it?" Isabella stirred the sausage, peppers, and onions before recovering the tray with foil. "So, are you seeing anybody right now?"

"Oh, there's this cop who comes in for a bagel every morning," Renee mentioned nonchalantly, stirring the lemon broccoli rabe. "Toasted blueberry bagel with strawberry cream cheese and a large coffee, black. Even when one of my girls is available, he stands aside until I come out of the office so that I can wait on him."

"Reeeeeally?" Isabella was more than impressed that her mother seemed to be speaking about a man who held down a job with a steady paycheck. It was already enough of a shock to Isabella's system when Renee decided to take a chunk of the money she'd given her in order to open up a bagel shop in the San Fernando Valley. "Aaand?"

Renee shrugged. "And he's cute." She smiled, looking like she had a secret all her own. "He's got a mustache, too. Definitely some pussy tickler potential there," she giggled.

"MOTHER!" Isabella screeched before both ladies burst out in laughter. She'd been mortified to hear her mother's candor, but thrilled to be having a moment of levity with this woman. The rest of their lives might not be filled with pedicure dates and shopping weekends, but if they could laugh and still find love within their left-of-center relationship, Isabella would be satisfied. "Let's go, sexpot. I have a dinner to serve."

The ladies made their way to the solarium, where Isabella found Edward now sitting on a deck chair, joking with his friends. She came up behind him, wrapping her arms around his neck. "Hey," she whispered, kissing just below his ear.

Edward's hands gripped hers on his chest while he tilted and turned his head to face her. A sexy smile crept across his face. "Another." His gruff voice stirred her desire.

Isabella hummed and moved her mouth over his, capturing his upper lip between hers. She relished his warmth, tasted the Peroni on his breath and enjoyed the manly stubble surrounding the smoothness. They captivated each other until she feared the only solution would be to drag him to the nearest closet to satisfy her urges.

When she pulled away, Edward pouted, protesting, "Get back here; that was just getting good!"

"Just?" She parroted, offended.

He yanked her around to the front of his chair and pulled her down onto his lap. Smiling like a kid in a candy store, holding Willy Wonka's golden ticket, he demanded, "Another."

Isabella snickered and leaned in while Felix hollered from the pool. "All right, break it up, you two." She and Edward smiled, staring into each other's eyes like goofs as Felix continued to tease. "I think the _Carbones_ are about to kick us out, honey."

Felix climbed up the shallow steps of the pool, water trickling down his caramel-colored, toned chest. Claudia whistled like a construction worker as he sauntered her way. Miraculously, he managed not to get a drop of water on his Ray Bans while shaking his head to fling the excess water away.

Claudia grumbled from her chaise lounge. "Hey! Thanks a lot, Cujo! Ugh!"

Tearing his towel from the back of her chair, he dove toward her chest. "You know it." He peppered his girlfriend with kisses in between growls. "I'm your very own lap dog." Claudia squealed when he went for her neck.

Isabella rolled her eyes, enjoying her friends' silliness, so thankful they had each other, now that she and Edward were no longer a fixture in Texas.

"Dinner's ready, everybody," Isabella called out, trying to remember why she'd come outside in the first place, if it wasn't to get lost in an endless lip-lock with the man who held her heart. "Let's go eat while it's still hot."

"C'mon, you two," Claudia sang, approaching. "I hear _Cucina Carbone_ makes the best eggplant parm around!"

Amid the chuckling, Felix pulled his sunglasses off and winked at Isabella as he passed. Her friendship with that man had been her lifeline back to this alternate reality she now cherished. She'd forever be grateful to him for never giving up on her.

"Shall we go to dinner, _mia cara_?" Edward pulled Isabella's hair away from her collar bone and laid a gentle kiss there. "My _Bianca_ worked hard to set up that fine feast on our table for our guests. It should be enjoyed."

"I have a confession." Isabella's voice was no louder than a whisper. "I did it all for you," she pledged, grazing her fingernails along the base of his hairline.

Edward cupped his hand around the back of her neck and drew her lips to his once more. It was warmth and passion and comfort. Their tongues swept along each other's in the sweetest of dances until he pulled back again. "I've always loved you, Bella, and I always will."

She sighed, content in his arms and comforted by his promise that hadn't wavered since the first time they'd arrived in Sorrento last summer. "More than money, more than notoriety, more than anything I once thought held any value at all . . . Edward, this life with you reminds me every day that nothing will ever matter more than our friendship or our love."

They exchanged smiles, pledging their forever's through a shared gaze, knowing the journey ahead of them would be ever sweeter holding each other's hand and occasionally playing Scrabble by candlelight for old time's sake.

* * *

**A/N: And that's where our journey ends, dear readers. I have to thank you for coming along on this wild ride. You trusted me enough to write these highly flawed characters, take them through their storm and arrive safely on the other side. My greatest feeling of joy came when some of you, who were so disgusted with Isabella and her nastiness, stuck with me to watch her evolution to the point that you were cheering for her safety and happiness by the end. I'm so glad you endured this roller coaster ride. Let your anti-WIP friends know that we are officially complete!**

**To my _GREED_y team: Your tireless work on my behalf was inspiring. Thank you for loving these characters as much as I did. And extra lovin' for my MFEO LaMomo for her gorgeous Italian translations, helping us all fall in love with Hermitward a little bit more. **

**New Yummy story is in the works . . . no title yet, but I've already posted a picture tease on my Facebook account where a bride and groom are dancing together, and the caption reads, "I danced with two men on my wedding day . . . the one I married and the one I wish I married." If it sounds intriguing to you, just hit that 'follow author' button, and you'll be hearing from me again soon. **

**Thank you for being here. XO, Jen**


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